Legacy
by Get Real Or Die
Summary: Update 05-14-11 Chapter 6 done! Daria Morgendorffer has survived 5 years at Buxton Ridge Military Academy. Now its simply a matter of whether the city of Lawndale and her estranged family will survive her.
1. The End Is The Beginning

AN: Originally posted on the PPMB message boards as a response to an Iron Chef (that I issued so I guess its an Iron Cook) the idea of Daria in military school fascinated me. If you prefer the story without the curses (or at least with mostly asteriks used) head on over to and check it out in the creative writing section. As always reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimer: I don't own Daria or The Killers

(Prologue)  
Over and in  
Last call for sin  
While everyone's lost  
the battle is won  
With all these things that I've done

All These Things That I've Done - The Killers

He stares at her in amazement, the man named Dr. Geoffrey Hopkins thinking this isn't the first time he's had to look at her like that. "What on earth happened to you?"

She's grinning maniacally, making the sight of her in her paint covered fatigues even more off-putting. "Some of the boys in company B tried to put my back against the wall. I was waiting for them with company D. About time that little rivalry started working for me rather than against me."

He laughs, honestly appreciative of her efforts. "Not much of a send-off though."

She sighs before sprawling on the only couch in his room, visibly enjoying the flinch he gives as he thinks of the paint staining his couch. "That's later on tonight. Word around the campfire is some of them are taking me into town for one last huzzah. I'll sleep on the way to Maryland."

He becomes serious in an instant. "You're not planning on talking to your father on the way back? That's a long ride to spend in silence."

She burrows further into the couch looking for a comfortable position. "I can't imagine what I'd say to him after 5 years. The few things I had to say to any of them were in the letters I sent. It's been a long time and if it wasn't for my mom offering to pay for college if I came home, I wouldn't be going in the first place."

He frowns as he remembers something she said not long ago. "I thought you were set on West Point or the Air Force Academy? You wouldn't need your parents to pay for those on account of government funding."

"Yeah but they're selective and you have to be the best of the best. Only about 20% of West Point cadets are women and Colorado Springs might not take me cause I barely make height requirement. A civilian college will be expensive as hell when it comes right down to it and I can't afford to take out student loans when I'll soon be on a private's commission and I won't if I don't have to."

He holds up his hand in the universal sign for timeout. "Hold on. Give me a minute to get out my BS detector and I'll promptly deflate that argument for you. First and foremost, you know I'd be willing to hand deliver you two congressional recommendations which is one more than you'd need to qualify for Big West. Second, you're 5'2 now; your height's not an issue anymore and it hasn't been for a good year or so. Third, depending on what civilian college you go to you could get a sports or academic scholarship providing your body of work is as impressive as it is today which it damn well better be. And last but not least, college loans are for the broke and talentless. What's really going on here?"

She holds up her hands in surrender. "Okay McGarett, quit grilling me. The military can wait. I'm doing this because I want my family to see how good I've become; how much I excelled. I want them all to know that I became someone worth knowing, worth admiring. I want them to see me become a productive and influential member of society. And when that happens, I want them to **know** they had nothing to do with any of it."

"So you're still compelled to get revenge for the perceived slight they've given you oh so long ago?"

She springs off of the couch in outrage. "Perceived sleight? They wrote me out of their family! Every year I get this stupid little fucking Christmas card with the three of them on it grinning out to the world saying, "This is our family. We love each other. Oh, where's the geek you ask? We got rid of her years ago!" And now that mom's about to become big shit on campus as she slithers her way up the corporate ladder, she wants to present the facade of one big happy family to the bigwigs while she decides how she's gonna make her bid for The Supreme Court. So what do they do? I'll tell you what they do; they _invite_ me to "take my place among the family again" like I walked away from them as they fell to their knees and begged me to come back as I went on, letting their words fall on deaf ears and bounce off of a hardened heart. And to add insult to injury, they try to order me back. Order _me_ like I'm some slack jawed idiot that'll thank them on bended knee for the right to be in their presence. And when I go "hey, make it worth my while" they pull out what they _think_ are the big guns and say they'll get me a car. I'll get my own car, thank you very much and I'll do whatever I want with it and they'll give it to Quinn over my dead **body**. So I'm gonna make them pay out the nose for college if I don't get into West. I'm gonna make them pay for Harvard or Yale just for shits and giggles and get started on the most useless degree on the face of this planet before I say "ha ha, fooled you" and drop out 2 years in. I'm not going to Maryland to play nice! Of course I'm gonna shove it in their DAMN FACES THAT I'M HAPPY AND WELL ADJUSTED! AND IF I HAVE TO SHARE A ROOM WITH QUINN AGAIN..." Here she pauses in her tirade to give a bone-rattling kick to the couch.

He's calmly tells her, "It's an inanimate object Daria. You can't hurt it."

She whirls back to face him, leaning in to glare right at his face. "YOU"RE AN INANIMATE FUCKING OBJECT!" As always when she gets a little too ridiculous in her rage, she starts to calm down by taking even breaths. Unlike the first time this happened, she's under control again in less than 30 seconds. He watches her impassively while she takes a bandana out of her pocket and wipes at her reddened face and tries to smooth her hair into some semblance of calm. In the end she simply gives up and pulls it back into a ponytail. Throughout her rustlings, her breathing comes consistently even and timed.

He hands her bottle of water from a mini fridge to the right of his desk, watching as she takes a long pull. "Better?"

The girl laughs, suddenly grinning and settled like her outburst never happened. "Yeah just get a little hot thinking about it."

"Mt. Vesuvius was a little hot. You're Mr. Fahrenheit." He comes around to the front of his desk and gently grabs her by the shoulders so he can look into her face. "Now look Daria. You know I like you. You've got a good head on your shoulders, you know right from wrong, and you're not afraid to work hard once you're motivated. You're a good kid and I'm only going to say what I'm about to say because I want you to make good on the progress you made here so if I offend you, it's out of love. Here it is: You don't have the sense god gave a goose when it comes to The Ridge. This place isn't a good place or a safe place for you and you used to know that. If you were smart, common sense smart not book smart, you'd spend the rest of your high school career staying away from Buxton Ridge, far away. No good can come of you being the only female cadet here and I think that the past has proven that, no matter how admirably you bounced back from the situation. The commandant is full of shit because no matter what line he's fed the press and the parents, it'll be a cold day in hell before we go full co-ed. Even if you never feel like you can really be a part of your family again, do not screw yourself at that place. You might hear otherwise, but you won't have a place here again. Once you're gone, you're gone. The uppers look at you like a failed experiment and that's not because of what happened with Sloane; that I can guarantee because like I promised you, that's stayed between the three of us. It's just been a little too much for the old guard; the press, losing boys to give you your own barracks, the things some of the other cadets do to get your attention. They're old and set in their ways and they patted themselves on the back for giving you a chance but women's lib might as well be something you ladies do to yourselves when you're on your monthlies as far as they're concerned, if you'll excuse me putting it that crudely. Go home and get some perspective before you're so eager to sign your life over to Uncle Sam and if you still feel like you want what West can give you come your senior year, I'll take you down and tour the facilities with you myself. Okay?" He pulls away from her and listens carefully for what she's gonna say to his news.

She looks troubled. "Hopkins, I'm not stupid okay. I'm gonna go and be the model prodigal daughter; maybe I'll even get into a sport and blow their minds. I'm gonna chew my food with my mouth closed and be as polite as I possibly can while they try to "re-connect" with me." Her face is unbearably disgusted at the thought. "But forgive and forget is not my motto okay? They dropped me here like garbage and I'll never forget that as long as I live. As for Buxton Ridge not letting me back in? Who do you think talked to the press in the first place? I'll be damned if some fuck that won't let chivalry just **die** like it should keep me from getting back here. I'll be fine; I just gotta keep my temper down a little better and I'm set. But I will think about what you said as far as enlisting right out of school because I do believe you know what you're talking about when it comes to that. No worries."

Stubborn as the day is long. The pang in his chest isn't new when it comes to her; he's known for a long time that he'd miss her when she left. Only time would tell if she stayed gone; he'd bet on Buxton Ridge but he wouldn't bet a lot. He sees she's already about to crash after expending all of her energy in that outburst and he wants her to be able to sneak into town and have her send-off, even though he supposes as staff he should be trying to herd her in more. But honestly? He's never found it easy to do that. It didn't matter though; they've said everything there is to say. "Daria, it's been...interesting and enlightening."

She salutes him before going to leave. "Thanks for everything Geoff." Then she's gone, off to do who knows what.

He chuckles as he realizes she called him by his Christian name for what has to be the first time. Odd little girl to the end. He pulls out his tape recorder and stops the recording of his last therapeutical session with her. "Au revoir, Daria."

End Prologue.


	2. An Epic Farewell

Disclaimer: I don't own Daria, Hed PE, or John Travolta, or Pulp Fiction

AN: some material may be disturbing for some people

Chapter One: An Epic Farewell (Alternately Titled: The Whining and Melodramatic Inner Ramblings of Mr. Sloane)

Ain't nothing working  
Ain't nothing right  
There's a hole in me that I can't fill  
No matter how hard I try

Bartender - Hed PE

July 21, 1997  
10:45 p.m EST  
Buxton Ridge, Virginia  
Great Ridge Sports Bar & Grill

"Company D's in the house!"

About 20 young men clad in jeans and sweatshirts rush into the bar, whooping it up like it's their last night on earth and they were going to go out with a bang. The lone female among them looks around lazily and it's easy to see that she's mostly indifferent to their exuberance. He puts the rag he was using to wipe down the bar on the counter and turns to his girlfriend. "I'm gonna take a break okay. I'll be back in an hour. Are you okay to deal with the midgets?"

She brushes a strand of hair out of her face and the surge of affection he feels for her is comforting considering the temptation he's about to face. "Yeah, I'll try to keep them at least below the limit. I'm sick of this hands-off policy when it comes to those testosterone laden gun boys. I tell you, if I ever meet the bastard who adopted the look the other way policy when it comes to underage drinking in this town, I'd..."

He's already walking away from her, unwilling to remind her for the 1000th time that he used to be one of those 'gun boys' as she so quaintly put it. The night's just getting started and he's already tired from serving wings and pulling beer from the tap. He'd be lying to himself if he said his sudden need for a break doesn't have 90% to do with Daria being here but he's gotten good at lying to himself and it's just the way he gets by.

There's no apologizing for that. If he couldn't lie to himself, he'd have to face the fact that there's no way in hell he's getting out of Virginia anytime soon and he can't do that. He can't pretend it doesn't sting him to this day that he's been disowned, can't pretend that he will ever be able to go into the military, can't pretend that he's not counting down to the day he turns 21 and can access his trust fund so he doesn't have to work here anymore. He just can't. He doesn't have the capacity to do it.

Someone told him that life is about the choices you make. Or maybe he read it off a movie poster; he honestly can't remember. But the point stands. He's going to make the choice to walk over to her and her posse and he _is_ going to offer to buy her a beer and he _will_ let that lead where it may. There's an apartment upstairs and even though it's an apartment he shares with a woman who's supposed to be the only woman he sticks it to, he will choose to look at Daria laying on his sheets and think she looks better on them than Sarah ever could.

Or he could choose to walk away. In the immortal words of John Travolta, he could choose to go home, jerk off and let that be all he's gonna do. He can be a man for once and do the right thing; the **noble** thing and in the morning she'd be gone from his life for good. He'd never see her again and she'd be scoured from his head and his heart. All of their sordid soap opera bull laid to rest once and for all. No more worlds colliding and no more guilt and shame.

Then he sees her looking at him, those cool grey eyes filled with a challenge that he can't ignore. And this is the moment where he chooses for ill or good and the only question is (her only question): what's it gonna be? By the time she's started for the outside, he already knows what he's going to do and it's the same thing he's done the other times she's come to him.

He can't let go. She's in him like a disease and it sickens him the way he fights himself on it all the time. There's barely veiled amusement in her eyes when he meets her around the back at the door that hides the stairs that lead into his apartment but when he grabs her and slams her into the wood, the amusement's turned to wariness. "Why are you here? Why aren't you at the Blue Oyster or jockeying for beers from Smith's? The one place you shouldn't be and yet here you are. Why?"

She closes the gap between their faces until their millimeters apart. "Because you want me here. I know you do; I can practically smell it on you. You don't think I see what you're doing with Miss Debutante Rebellion '97? I know you're gonna marry her and have trust fund babies and try ever so hard to be welcome with open arms back at Sloane Estate. You've got it all planned out and if I was a moron, I could almost admire it. But I'm not going silently into the night. I want you to feel me inside of you for the rest of your life."

He looks at her wanting to throw her over his shoulder and lock her out of his place but she can feel him pressed insistently against her and know he's not gonna do that, so why not? Why the fuck not? "If you're coming up, then come on then. Take your shoes off when you get inside." He pulls away and bypasses her to unlock the door.

Walking up the stairs he can feel her gaze on his back and it makes him a lot of things. There's lust (always lust), sickness, fear, and happiness. He's happy she's here as much as it would have been easier to never have seen her again. Sarah does want him to marry her and he's probably going to do it and use his trust fund to buy them a nice house. And when _her_ trust fund came through, he'd go off to college and prepare for the life of a Sloane. He's determined to get back in his family's graces and even if it took years of work, the reins of the empire **would** be handed over to him when the old man died if he had anything to say about it.

When the time came, it would be about "upholding the traditions set upon us" and "making good for the blood that runs through our veins". There'd be no more rendezvous and he'd be a shell of a man living a shell of a life. When he looked back on this night, he wanted her to have burrowed inside of him. It'd probably be the only thing left in there.

Once inside, he locks the door and tosses her on the bed. The force registers in her eyes and it makes him laugh, cause she was always so quick to forget that once upon a time he had went to Buxton Ridge too. She chucks her tennies off and throws them toward the small tiled kitchen, her sweater and t-shirt soon dumped on the side of the bed.

He strips her the rest of the way as slowly as he can and 10 minutes later, it doesn't matter that he's still dressed for the most part because zippers come down and boxers have holes in them. He gives it to her rougher than he's ever done before and thinks of the scratches she gives him on his back as a going away present from her to him. It's uncomfortably reminiscent of the first time they ever did this; back when she'd fought him and made him work for it every step of the way. Back when every caress he gave her could've turned into a punch and every kiss she turned away from made him want to grab her head and force her to taste him.

That was a long time ago but regression is the name of the game tonight. Times like these, he's afraid she's going to snap his neck and walk away but then comes the moment he _loves. _The moment when she's given herself (all of herself) to him and its all instinct. His name starts to fall from her mouth and it's the most beautiful sound in the world because she never calls him anything but Sloane when they're not here the way they are right now. He's the only place he's ever wanted to be, with the only girl he'd ever love, doing the most intimate act in the world, and he sees in Technicolor for those magical moments.

And then it's over and everything is grey again. Her eyes are cool and if he hadn't stored every moment she looked at him like she could ever love him, he'd think that it had been a figment of his imagination. She's laid out on top of him, stiff as he plays with her hair and he knows that it won't be long until she gets up or rolls away.

Then she gives a sigh and relaxes completely in his arms for the first time ever. He's not stupid enough to think that's the sign he's been waiting for over 2 years. She's leaving tomorrow and he's safe for her now. He can't chase her to Maryland (oh, but if he could) and she'll never come back to Buxton Ridge, Virginia as long as he's here. This is a goodbye with all of the accessories.

Her ear is pressed against his chest and he feels her breath on his skin as she talks. "I used to be so afraid of you."

His hand's in her hair and he tugs a little, wanting to rip it out for the way she's bringing up the past. "I know you were."

"I'm not afraid of you anymore. I don't like you and I don't respect you but I don't fear you either. All of the times I couldn't stand you touching me, all of the ways I used to feel sick for liking it when you did. And now all I feel is pity and incredulity that out of all the things in the world that are going to try and do it, I almost let you bring me down. And I know this sounds ludicrous but I had to do this one last time because..."

His hand's wrapped tightly in her hair and with one good yank all that pretty auburn hair he adores could be scattered over the floor and he wouldn't have to listen to her anymore. Probably. But he owes her this even if she's breaking his heart while she listens to it happen. "Because...?"

She places the smallest kiss on his skin, barely able to reach it with the death grip he has on her hair. "Because it's worth hating myself for liking the way you fuck me to know I'm leaving with your balls in my pocket."

He forces his hand open and releases her hair before he does something he knows he'll regret. "That's okay. I got your virginity so I guess it's fair you have something to remember me by because I know I'll **always** have what you gave me."

Her voice is quieter than he's ever heard it. "What you took, you mean."

He's disconnected from her, from this conversation, and from the spears she's launched into his heart. "Hmmm. That's not the way I remember it. And I remember it good Daria. Real good. I bet you do too."

And that seems to be the last straw because one moment she's in his bed and the next, she's gathering her discarded clothes and started putting them on. "I think for once I'm going to leave on a high note. Maybe see if I can get one of the boys from company D to erase you off of me for the last time."

And he knows he's hurt her because she'd once told him that the boys from D were tools to her; useful tools but tools just the same. And no matter what they've done to each other or why they've done it, he knows she's got class however buried it may be. But he'll play along because he just wants her _out_ before he hurts her again. The only time he's ever put his hands on her with the intention to hurt cost him his place at Buxton Ridge and it's cost him her true, open friendship; not the shallow facade that they've played at for the past 2 years. He doesn't have much else to lose but he knows when it comes to her, he'd lose it all and then some. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe through the hurt.

She quietly stands at the door and in his mind's eye he can see her watching him, memorizing him the way he memorized her that day in those empty barracks. He tells her something he hasn't told her since the first time. "I love you Daria. I don't know why it's this big and I don't know how it's this intense but I love you so much; too much. I'd do anything for you to love me back of your own free will but I'm selfish enough to try and make you." He wants to sit up and see her but he's afraid that she'll fear him like she so clearly did the one and only time he's ever said those things to her; the second time in his life that he's ever lost complete control of himself. There was something he'd just figured out for his self, though. "When I marry Sarah, I'm going to see you across from me and it'll be the happiest day of my life when I do. That's **my** high note."

"Seek. Help." The door's open and she's gone for the last time and it feels like the first time he's ever lost her when that was so long ago. Her descent down the stairs echoes back to him but he lays there lost in his memories. On the edge of her leaving are the sound of Sarah's genteel lady steps up to the door.

("Come in cadet." He stops and stands in front of Commandant Ericson at attention, visibly sweating through his uniform. There's disgust on the face of the man in front of him and he's more than a little disgusted with himself when he catches the glimpse of a battered Daria peeking out from one of the glossy photos on the Commandant's desk. For the life of him he couldn't remember what happened that night except for the rawness in his voice as he told her how much he loved her. But he has to face facts; you didn't do **that** to a woman you loved.

For five minutes the commandant looks him in the eye, seemingly looking for something. He sits down behind his desk and continues to regard him for a long moment before he speaks. "Are you a god-fearing man Cadet Sloane?")

Sarah's voice seeps into his occupied mind. "Angie who was that girl?"

("Sir?" He's confused and it shows in his voice.

"Shut up. I'm talking **at** you not to you, ya sorry sack of shit! And when I want to know what you think, I'll kick you in the balls and you are WELCOME to sound off if you can! See the way I see it, a god fearing man is able to put himself in the shoes of another person and think about the effects the actions he takes in life would affect him and those closest to him. So as a god fearing man, I can't help but look at you and think about how _I'd _feel if my 13 year old daughter was raped and beat on by a 17 year old grown man. And furthermore, I find myself even more incensed because that 17 year old man was supposed to take my daughter by the hand, **metaphorically speaking,** and mentor her using kindness and knowledge he has gained through walking the same path that she has been set upon." There's no understanding in Ericson's eyes and no feeling beyond hatred and disdain.)

Sarah's prattling on in the background. "What are those scratches on you? Did you...did you cheat on _me_!"

(He stands there, honestly afraid for his life and afraid to speak.

"Are you a fan of movies and I want you to answer this right away, or I will consider it my right to kick you in your jewels."

He's never answered a question faster in his life. "Yes I am sir."

The commandant nods, looking grimly pleased. "That sounds about right. I got half the campus running around throwing quotes at each other from that 'Puff Fiction' or whatever it's called and I realized something as I strolled through my academy. Do you want to know what that is Cadet Sloane?" Ericson's vaulted over his desk [spry for a man his age] and planted his knee in Angier Sloane the II's privates before he even saw him move. "DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT I REALISED CADET!"

He gasps from his curled up position on the floor. "Yes sir."

The commandant's visibly pleased at his interest. "Glad to hear you say so cadet. I realized that this generation of youngsters, possibly moreso than any other generation before, relates to movies and movie quotes like they have some particular meaning to their own lives. They spout them and feel them and revel in them and I don't understand it. Was the Terminator a good movie? Yes I think so. Do I go around saying, "Come with me if you want to live." No, of course not and that's because I've got good sense. So as an homage to your generation..." He leans down and speaks into his face. "I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse.")

Sarah's sitting crying at the foot of the bed. "I can't believe this. Why would you do this to me?" She's sobbing outside of his head but he's in the past for now.

(He's behind his desk again pouring a brandy like he didn't just mangle a cadet's privates. "The fact of the matter is, if this gets out, it'd put the kibosh on a few things; three to be exact. One, I care very little about which is your future in the military service. To be quite frank you're not fit to flip burgers at a McDonald's, for the fear that you will jump over the counter and _sexually assault_ a 9 year old. If I thought it'd do any good, I'd have your sexually deviant ass killed and all traces of your existence wiped from the planet before I presented Cadet Morgendorffer with your head. But she respects your intelligence and the manner you behaved towards her before this incident occurred and I think it'd break the little thing's heart."

He leans back in his chair, uncaring of the crumpled form on the floor. "Second and this is a mildly bigger concern of mine, what this situation would do to the hopes that Buxton Ridge would go full on co-ed in the eventual future. Now I don't give a flying dog turd whether women join the military but for the most part, I think they need to stay the hell away from Buxton Ridge. Let 'em get their home ec classes in and if they can hack it, go to West or Annapolis but that's just my opinion. In five years a new century will be upon us and if it wasn't for Cadet Morgendorffer, we'd be greeting the end of the century the same way we entered it: 100% male attendance. If word of your...predilections and its consequences get out, it'll cast a disturbing light on whether or not women will be safe here. I can't let that happen simply because of reason number three."

He spits out his words through clenched and gritting teeth. "The girl you assaulted is not only a 3rd generation legacy but the granddaughter of one of the most richest and influential women in Virginia. Since her granddaughter's started here, Evelyn Barksdale has donated more money to this facility than your life is worth right now and her capital makes the trust funds of you and your siblings look like a mirage in the desert. More than that, apparently the grand old lady has decided that Cadet Morgendorffer is her heir apparent. Congratulations boy. You just beat the crap out of what's got to be a billion and some change worth of a young lady."

At this moment, whether it's because of the Commandant's words or the sickening feeling of pain in his lower body, he throws up all over the carpet below him.

Ericson's lip is curled up. "You're gonna spend the night cleaning that up but let's get down to brass tacks. In exchange for you never stepping foot on Buxton Ridge property again after you're escorted out tomorrow morning, you get to spend the rest of your pathetic life out of prison. In return for never seeking Cadet Morgendorffer out ever again, you get to move wherever you so choose in this world without having to go door to door and letting your neighbors know that you've moved into their vicinity. And for your continuing silence, you have the privilege to work as long as it takes to pay The Ridge back for Cadet Morgendorffer's medical bills. And if this has not been done within 3 years, you have the privilege of telling Angier Senior what you've been up to."

He doesn't want to get kicked again but he has to know. "What did you mean about predilections sir?"

The commandant looks at him for the first time with pity. "Boy, I know you're a Yankee but even you can't be as stupid to think that the higher ups don't know why you were disowned? A 14 year old boy trying to play hide the sausage with a 10 year old girl and his daddy doing major clean up is the kind of thing we make it our business to know. You're a pedophile you stupid son of a bitch and I wish to god I could get you locked up and have the key thrown away. But since I'm sitting here trying to keep the shit from hitting the fan and that unfortunately includes keeping your ass from seeing jail time, I think I'll settle for never seeing you try to enter my precious military and the above discussed terms. Now get the hell out of my office. And Sloane? That offer? You **better** not refuse it or you'll get to see what they do to pedophiles in prison. Dismissed.")

Angier's back from memory lane and shocking Sarah with how quickly he pops out of bed and on his feet. He's in her face and holding her head in a vice grip to cut her damnded wailing off. The woman in front of him is not as smart, beautiful, or a precious to him as Daria had been but Daria's gone and maybe he should have known better then to ever try to get her back. But what could he say; he's getting better all the time. "You are not my wife. You are my girlfriend and co-worker but that doesn't give you the right to tell me anything about anything as far as I see it. Now are you gonna marry me one day?"

She nods her head the few inches she's able to through his grip because he's a Sloane and the only people that know about what he's done are miles away or keeping their mouths shut for their own reasons. So of course she'd want to marry him and give up the faux eschewing of the trappings of wealth. "Good. I think that'd be grand. But until that day?" He drops her on the floor, not even trying to be gentle. His pants are quickly zipped up and he enjoys the smell of him and Daria in the air before grabbing a shirt off the floor and leaving without looking back except to throw his parting words over his shoulder.

"Don't you ever ask me about my business."


	3. Interlude One

Legacy: An Interlude

Disclaimer: I don't own Daria or MGMT

AN: The interludes will jump all over the timeline

Interlude 1: That Thing Mothers Fear Above All Else (Alternately Titled: Two Ridiculously Old Ladies With Common Ground)

All along the western front  
People line up to receive  
She got the power in her hands  
To shock you like you won't believe

Electric Feel - MGMT

May 11, 1996  
3:27 p.m EST  
Bumpass, Virginia  
Barksdale Castle

If a man asked her what made a great woman, Evelyn Barksdale would reply "serving your family and community from home." 20 years ago that wouldn't have just been a trite and sexist comment but what she truly believed. Her change in philosophy wasn't because of, as some might believe, her eldest daughter's success in a male-dominated field but a reflection of her granddaughter's accomplishments at Buxton Ridge Military Academy.

While she hadn't believed in Helen and Jake's decision to send Daria to Virginia, she'd have been a fool to pass up the golden opportunity that was her granddaughter's proximity to where she lived. And while she was many things, Evelyn Barksdale _was not_ a fool. Within a month of Daria's arrival to Buxton Ridge, she'd driven down to let her know that she was welcome in her home at anytime. The loneliness and desolation on the poor girl's face had done much to convince her she had made the right decision.

That was the day she had decided that her family's wealth and the expectations that came with it would fall on Daria's shoulders.

Though she favored Rita, it was more than apparent that the girl had made a cock-up of her and Erin's life. Erin was a loose girl if one ever existed and though they'd always have a place in her home, their presence grated. Erin was a constant embarrassment with her status as a wannabe debutante and don't even get her started on the subject of Quinn. Daria, on the other hand, took the worse of a bad situation and excelled (with the help of her own guidance of course). First in her year academically and a shoe-in for valedictorian in 3 years time. She was a decent shot, a burgeoning horsewoman, a star in track and field, and a generally bright feather in the Barksdale family cap.

The only problem **was** her placement at Buxton Ridge.

Evelyn had no misconceptions about what went on in a military environment. Men were uncouth and rough when gathered together in the first place and there was just something about the addition of firearms that propelled them to even greater heights of unseemly behavior. That was no place for a young female and as she so rightly feared, her life among the unwashed had started to reflect itself in Daria's behavior and speech patterns.

This was where Ruth Morgendorffer came in. Though she resided on the other side of Virginia in Virginia Beach when not staying with her in Barksdale Castle, Ruth had become her greatest ally in trying to instill ladylike behavior in Daria. Where one grandmother (especially Evelyn herself, if Helen had her way) would have failed, the both of them together succeeded. During breaks in her schooling (generously extended by The Ridge thanks to large contributions to Buxton's scholarship fund) Daria learned activities that would help her be on the way to becoming not only a lady, but a **great** lady.

And what would make her plans for Daria so successful was Helen's unwillingness to understand her daughter. Daria had been a bright and strong willed (if more than a little ornery) girl but ultimately directionless. The idea of giving her some discipline and something to excel at had been a good one, but poorly executed. And when Daria gave her valedictorian speech at a prominent women's college (she hasn't decided whether Wellesley or Smith would be best), she'd thank her grandmothers for making her the woman that stood before them.

In a month's time Daria would be back at Barksdale Castle. She'd introduce the girl to a few young men of good breeding and before the end of her break; there'd be a nice informal dinner with a couple of Virginia's leading statesmen. Throughout all of the activities she had planned, Ruth and she would continue to subtly dissuade the girl from a life of military service.

They couldn't have the future President of The United States getting shot in the face, now could they?

"Let's make a toast Ruth."

"What should we toast to?"

"Why, the only thing worth toasting to! The future, Ruth. The future."


	4. The Outcast Of Company D

Disclaimer: I don't own Daria or the Pet Shop Boys

AN: Minor issues of race but mainly something funny before the angst storm I'm gonna lay on you

Chapter Two: The Outcast of Company D (Alternately Titled: Stan: The Funny Man With A Plan From Detroit, Michigan)

You can see I'm single-minded, I know what I could be  
How'd you feel about it, come and take a walk with me?  
I'm looking for a partner, regardless of expense  
Think about it seriously, you know it makes sense

Opportunities (Let's Make Lots of Money) - Pet Shop Boys

July 22, 1997  
2:34 A.M EST  
Buxton Ridge, Virginia  
Outlying Area of Buxton Ridge Military Academy's Surrounding Forest

Sometimes, he thinks he's taken a prank too far but then he mentally slaps himself because there's no such thing.

"Did we measure it right?"

He checks the length of the rope again and it's the perfect length with the right amount of give. "It's perfect."

Morgendorffer laughs, suspended 10 feet in the air high above him. "I love it when a plan comes together."

This wasn't happening. "No, just no. We're not the A-Team because that would make you Hannibal and me B.A Baracus. I can't be B.A Baracus Morgendorffer. I'm not built for the care and consideration a mohawk of that magnitude requires."

"Yeah, plus you're not cool enough to be Mr. T."

"I don't know if 'cool enough' is the phrase I'd use when comparing me to Mr. T playing B.A. Now less mechanical experience, a lack of a fear of heights; these are all apt comparisons." He's kind of getting into their approaching philosophical debate over the A-Team; so much so, the grip he has on the rope slips momentarily and Morgendorffer goes swinging and smacks her head into a tree trunk.

"Shit! Morgendorffer, are you okay? "He doesn't get a response from her. "Morgendorffer? Okay screw it, I'm bringing you down."

Her voice is weak. "I'm okay. I just blacked out for a moment. Tie me off and send up the bucket for the tools; I'm coming down for a few minutes."

He does like she says and soon she's situated on the ground and he gives her a cursory look over by the light of the flashlight. Her left eye's starting to blacken and there's gonna be a hell of a bruise on her temple but her nose isn't broken and all of her teeth are there so he has mixed feelings about whether to go on with the plan. But before he could speak up, she's shaken off his hand and grabbed a beer from the duffel.

She leans against the tree she just got banged into. "Don't give me that look Freemont."

He has an idea what she's talking about but decides to feign ignorance. "What look? How am I looking at you? Is it a crime to look at someone how I'm apparently looking at you? Cause I'd _never_…."

She throws the bottle cap from her beer at him, which he just as quickly catches and pockets. Morgendorffer had no respect for Buxton Ridge's investigational abilities. "You know what I'm talking about. You wanna call it off cause I'm a little hurt. I've been hurt worse and we're gonna pull this off if it kills me. This is too epic to ignore the legends we'll be if we do this right. Now…." She drains the rest of her beer and chucks the empty back into the duffle. "tie me back up and no more talking till' I'm done up there."

He salutes and bows as mockingly as possible. "Yes madam." He snugly ties the length of rope around her waist again, betting she'd be feeling that too in the morning. A couple of adjustments and she was back in the tree drill in hand. When she was done securing the platform, he'd let her down and they'd work on getting each piece of the sculpture on it.

Their five minute interval had been interrupted halfway through by his slip but he can hold her up there for a few more minutes before his arms start to get tired. If they had found industrial strength cable, his end would be tied around a tree and he'd be up there helping her. But the branches were sturdy enough for her to perch gingerly on them and though the rope they had was strong, the eucalyptus tree would fray it even more than it was. He couldn't take a chance that she'd fall and severely injure herself or even worse, die.

No prank was worth dying for, though if he had to fall and seriously injure himself for this to come out like they planned he might take that hit. He was willing to suffer for their vision and though he knew she was too, he'd never let her get hurt because of something they collaborated on. The thing he most hated about Buxton Ridge would be symbolized by what they had planned and it was all thanks to that 97 pound girl currently humming the theme song to Pinky and the Brain.

Now, don't get him wrong: he liked Morgendorffer. She was quick-witted, charismatic, and generally someone he enjoyed talking to. But to say that they were friends was a bit of a stretch. She was his partner in crime true enough, but she liked to push the envelope a little too much for his taste and there were a troop of boys tied up in a forest in Lexington that could attest to that.

There was no love between him and the rest of the boys in Company D, mainly because of their love of calling him 'Buxton Ridge's token negro'. If he'd thought they'd hated him and were cruel to him just because of the color of his skin then he could have dismissed them and hated them back, but it was the casualness of their behavior towards him that bewildered and irked him. Everything about him was displeasing to them; his accent, his leisure time clothes, the way he walked, the way he talked. He was an outsider in this place and he missed Detroit so much it hurt sometimes.

Morgendorffer was the only thing that made this place bearable for him. They sparred together in combat class and did their homework together. He taught her about football and she taught him how to ride a horse (he had refused before because those things were scary). He'd spent more time with her than anyone else here and he couldn't say that he particularly liked her.

He couldn't pinpoint it exactly but there was this….watchfulness in her that he couldn't understand. It was like she expected him to stab her in the back as soon as she turned around. He didn't know if that was more of the "oh, he's a negro Yankee" attitude he'd come to expect from people in Virginia (and she was from Texas originally for god's sake) but despite their camaraderie, that's what kept him from liking her. You can't help but hold back from someone when you think their holding back from you. Speaking of…

"Morgendorffer, I gotta ask you something."

She makes a muffled noise and spits the flashlight from her mouth. "What!"

He grins at her, knowing she can't see him. "Where'd you get that weed you gave Massey? I thought you didn't smoke."

"Oh yeah man. Stuff's way too expensive and it gave me a headache only time I smoked it. That was a bunch of potpourri that I sprinkled with Windex wrapped in joint paper. "

"That's….inspired. Aren't you afraid he's gonna get sick or something?" He dodges the branches she's started to trim from the tree while keeping a firm grip on the rope.

"Hey if he's too dumb to realize he's not smoking what he thinks he's smoking, that's god's fault. That's what that fucker gets for hitting on me all the time and tying us to trees in the first place. Let me down for a break."

He squints at his watch, knowing damn well he won't be able to see it. "Has it been five minutes already? I can probably hold you for two more." He hopes she doesn't take him up with that offer.

She snorts. "In your dreams you could. I'm done with the platform anyway. I want to run the numbers again and start assembling the metal parts. Let me down."

After bringing her down and tying the rope off again, they start going through their pieces. There are only five of them but each one weighs a good 2 pounds. Painstakingly crafted in metal shop, those pieces were a product of a semester spent sweating and getting minor burns while everyone else made swords and got major burns. He'd had to sacrifice wood shop and Morgendorffer forwent a second semester of "Home Economics" to get into the class. Stacked in pyramid formation, they looked like a carnie game supersized. But when the sixth piece was added, it was able to screw together and form a giant metal penis. The tip had been made in the dead of night since the both of them had been unwilling to make up a thinly veiled story about what a half-sphere shaped piece of metal with a slit chiseled in it was supposed to really be.

The wood for the platform had been easily harvested from the wood shop classroom. Mr. Ferdinand was nice enough to let them have it if they helped clean up for a week. The best part was so many people came and asked for wood to make wooden swords to spar with, so they wouldn't stick out when people started asking questions.

It was the perfect crime and the perfect partner. The only thing that wasn't perfect was the victim. His beef with the statue of Robert E. Lee didn't have much to do with Lee as a person. From what he understands, Lee was a good general who made some mistakes and had been caught between his home state and his country. He could understand that because if Michigan succeeded from the United States, he'd be caught too. He even wrote a stirring paper on Lee's decision to succeed with Virginia and though it made his military history teacher look at him oddly, it covered their tracks even more.

And it wasn't the "fighting to keep slaves" issue either. He likes his hot water and electricity, so he'd be willing to start some mess to keep them. Indentured servants had started a long tradition of owning people and it wasn't like Lee hadn't been willing to arm blacks to fight for the Confederacy at the end when all was lost. He wanted to punch the person who thought of it all but that was a long time ago and if he was trying to be political, he'd look closer to his own time for an injustice to fight. All in all he has no real problem with Lee per say and if he didn't see that statue every day, he probably wouldn't give the man much thought in his day to day life.

But that statue haunted him. It was of Lee on horseback with his mouth open, probably shouting "charge!" It was the pride and joy of Buxton Ridge and from the moment he saw it, he wanted to put something in that mouth. There'd been visions of dynamite, whip cream, even black forest ham when he'd been running a fever. He was obsessed and he can admit that if only because it'd be over and done with soon enough. The numbers had been checked and tripled checked, the materials were assembled, and all that was left was the grunt work of hoisting the metal and screwing it together.

And at high noon on a cloudless day, it would appear that Mr. Lee had a big, black cock inserted in his mouth.

"I think this is going to be our finest work yet, Morgendorffer."

"You're a visionary Stan and I am proud to make this happen with you."

AN: I don't know if this is possible but something that high could cast enough of a shadow, I think


	5. Interlude Two

Legacy: An Interlude

Disclaimer: I don't own Daria or Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Interlude Two: She-Who-Will-Be-Dealt-With (Alternately Titled: How Quinn Kept Living Her Version Of The American Dream)

After all it was a great big world  
With lots of places to run to  
And if she had to die tryin'  
She had one little promise she was gonna keep

American Girl - Tom Petty

March 19, 1995  
7:15 P.M CST  
Highland, Texas  
The Morgendorffer Home

There are days when she can't contain her satisfaction. Once a week she gets her mom to drive her into Dallas for "bonding time" and leaves with shoes and clothes that she wears once before shoving them in the back of her closet; repeat outfits were for the less fortunate. Her dad's wrapped around her finger (just like every other male in Highland) and she barely has to beg before he gives her money to go to the movies and get snacks. She always promises to bring him change from the $50 he gives her each time but she never does and he always forgets to ask. School was a breeze; she squeaks by with C's and high D's and when her mom gets on her case, she has some loser do an extra credit assignment for her just so she can parade an A in front of her parents and bask in the praise that she's smart and clever.

But she's never forgotten how things used to be.

She was still as popular back then as she is now but she wasn't the smart one. Daria had that honor and how Quinn had laughed when it had finally backfired on her. Everyone she's ever known has been impressed and awed by her cuteness; everyone except Daria. To Daria, she was shallow and pathetic and someone to be laughed and mocked. Daria mocked everyone but it was always her that got the worst of it. Every word out of Daria's mouth towards her was an insult about how one days her looks would fade and she'd be nothing; how mom and dad were too blinded by the bounciness of her hair and the perkiness of her voice to know that she wasn't anything special. Daria had been smarter than her and the worse thing was people had respected her for it.

They _liked_ her. Boys liked the way she laughed and the way she danced and other girls were impressed with her clothes but these were all things other people had. Don't mistake her; there was only **one** Quinn Morgendorffer and she led the charge on style in the pit of Highland, Texas but soon others had started mimicking her and boys were stupid enough to be impressed by the wannabes. Every day was a challenge to be the most everything and she had to fight to stay on top of the heap.

But Daria's intelligence got her respect. She could talk to adults on their level and they would marvel at how a girl Daria's age could relate to people 4 times older than her. She wrecked the curve in every class she'd ever been in and the amount of books she read was ridiculous. She never would've won a popularity contest but Daria didn't want to. She wanted to sit in the corner and write her stories and mock people and it worked. There were a bunch of girls that were _almost_ her; there had never been anyone like Daria in Highland.

Daria is a cloud that constantly threatens her idyllic life. When her report cards from Buxton Ridge came, mom and dad would spend weeks talking and thinking about her. When letters arrived (always short, concise and polite), they'd agonize over every word's meaning where they thought she couldn't hear them. They spent as much money on her tuition as they'd ever spent on her and every year the conversation of when she'd be coming home inevitably came up. Quinn's not stupid; she knew that she had their attention and love and focus 95% of the time and that Daria was often a distant figure that existed across the country to them when they remembered her at all. But Quinn wants 100% of the love and attention; she wants it all and if she had her way, Daria would never come back to Texas.

She does everything in her power to make it so. It was her idea to send Daria a Christmas card of the family that first year and it was her that distracted her parents with chatter when the topic of Daria came up. She didn't care if she never saw her again because this was _her_ life, _her_ house, and _her _family. Daria was an outsider in the family and Quinn had always known it. Heck, she was so much of one they shipped her off to Virginia of all places and didn't even protest much when Daria spent her breaks at her school. If Daria wanted to finish school there, they'd let her and Quinn puts the final nail in the coffin when the phone rings that night.

"Hello."

"Quinn it's me. Let me talk to mom or dad."

"God Daria, you sound like crap. Did you like, get some geeky cold or something?"

"I'm really not in the mood Quinn. I've had a bad month and I need to talk to mom and dad."

"They aren't even here. What do you want anyway? You never call."

"I need to tell them I'm coming home."

"You're what!"

"I'm coming home."

It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on her. "Oh my god, you got kicked out!"

Daria sighs on the other line. "No I didn't. I just want to come home. Now give the phone to mom or dad or I'll..." There's silence on the other end and for the first time in her life, she has power over her sister. "You don't wanna know what I'll do."

"No."

"What did you say?"

There's a burst of an epiphany deep inside her and for a moment, she's so dizzy that she can't speak. This was her house, her rules, and her game. It always had been and Daria made her forget that all the time when they were kids but she will never forget it ever again. "I said no."

"What the hell's your problem? Put mom or dad on the phone right now!"

She laughs, euphoric from her newfound realization. "What are you gonna do if I don't? You're in _Virginia_ Daria. Every letter you send asking to come home, I'll throw it away. Every time you call, I'll pretend you're Bobby, Billy, or Benjamin and talk about fashion until you hang up. And if you ever call them at work and tell them I wouldn't let you talk to them, I'll cry and sob about how much you hate me and never wrote me back when I sent you letters and I'll give an Oscar worthy performance before I tell the truth. I'm not gonna let you talk to them Daria, ever, and you wanna know why?"

Daria's voice is quiet on the other end and when she speaks, she can barely make out her voice. "Why?"

"You're a geek Daria and what really sucks about you is you're not even a really smart geek like that MacJyver guy or whatever his name was. If you could do something awesome like make a computer out of a shoebox or color coordinate plaids with stripes, I'd go "oh she's a freak but she's kind of cool too" but you can't do either of those things. The one thing you could do was read your little books and write your little stories but that's what got you sent to hillbilly country in the first place. You thought you were so smart and I was so stupid but look who's stupid now. We don't want you here Daria and if you were as smart as you think you are, you'd know that by now. Why do you think mom and dad haven't visited you?" She takes a deep breath ready to continue; deliberately ignoring it was her pretending to be afraid of flying that kept them from visiting Daria. "But what I really can't stand about you is the fact that you think being able to _read_ makes you so special. If you come home, all you're gonna do is what you used to do all the time: walk around like you're better than everybody and be a humongous bitch to anyone and everyone. All of that would be enough for me to just say "god, I hope she never comes home" and let whatever happens happen but you're not just another geek, you're a miserable person and you suck beyond all comprehension. I promised myself a long time ago that if it was the last thing I did, I'd make sure that you're not gonna rain on **my** parade ever again. Oh one more thing: I don't like you and the day they decided to get rid of you was the happiest day of my life. Suck on that nerd."

There's heavy breathing on the other line and then there's a clatter that's her dropping the phone when she hears Daria burst into tears. The hand that was holding the phone to her ear is covering her mouth in complete horror because Daria _never_ cried. She snarked, she mocked, she ignored but even the day she got put on a plane and sent away from the only home she'd ever known to a place their dad spent his whole life railing against, Daria hadn't cried. There's a sickening feeling of triumph inside of Quinn but Daria had been ready to ask to come home and that's what makes her realize she went too far. From the time she'd been there until now, Daria hadn't been willing to ask to come home. She stuck it out even though she couldn't have possibly liked it there. So what in the world could make _Daria_ of all people ready to throw in the towel? What could make her willing (desperate) to argue with Quinn when she could have just called mom's office in the morning? And why did she sound like she had the most heinous of colds when Daria never got sick?

She picks up the phone and listens to her sister crying her heart out and for the first time ever, she experiences the powerful scorching feel of deep shame. "Daria...I."

Daria interrupts her and her voice is still as mangled and nasal as before but this time she sounds...Quinn doesn't know a word for how her voice sounds. "Quinn, be quiet. You said what you wanted to say and I let you even though you were hurting my feelings more than I've ever known they could be hurt so let me say what I have to say. I know you don't like me and I've never particularly liked you either but I always thought it was because we were too different and mom and dad favored us in different ways. I know I didn't show it but I loved you even when I hated you for being everything I wasn't and being smug when mom would constantly shove that in my face. I **had** to love you even when you told people I was your cousin because I didn't want to end up like mom and her sisters. I **had** to hold onto the feeling that you're my sister; my baby sister; my only sister. I thought we would be able to like each other when we got older, I thought we'd grow up and learn to appreciate each other, and even though I gave you as much crap as you gave me and even when I laid awake at night and wished you'd never been born, I **always** loved you. That's done with. You caught me at a very unforgiving time in my life and one day, I'm going to make you feel how I feel right now. I hope, for your sake, that I never come home again."

She's never been as terrified as she is right now. "Daria please..."

"If you're going to block me from them, I'm not going to fight you. Tell mom and dad I love them because I do even if they don't love me. Goodbye Quinn." And what makes it worse (when she thought it couldn't get any worse), Daria doesn't slam the phone. One minute there's her breathing and the next minute, there's a dial tone. She just did a horrible thing because she wanted to be number one and now she was. Daria never lied and if she said she wasn't going to fight her, then she wasn't. Quinn just won an argument; a contest of wills with her sister for the first time in her life.

If only she _felt_ like a winner and not like a cheap pleather jacket left out in the sun.

"Who was on the phone, sweetie?"

Quinn turns around and gets ready to lie because as always, she doesn't want Daria to come home.

And if fear is the new motive behind her determination, no one can prove it.


	6. The Angst Stops Here Maybe

Disclaimer: I don't own Daria, U2, Alter Bridge, Eminem or Jose Feliciano

AN: Don't look at me like that, I just saw Grindhouse again and I was inspired

Chapter Three: The Angst Stops Here. Maybe (Alternately Titled: Showdown At The House Of Pancakes)

Have you come here for forgiveness?  
Have you come to raise the dead?  
Have you come here to play Jesus  
To the lepers in your head?

One - U2

July 22, 1997  
10:57 A.M EST  
Downtown Richmond, Virginia  
The International House Of Pancakes

The uncomfortable silence is broken by Daria dropping her knife and fork to her plate. "Look, I need to know what you guys expect from me. Because whatever you want, I can do it but not if you don't tell me what that is."

Jake's been in a state of confusion since 8:00 A.M. The last thing he did before he left Buxton Ridge had been to spit on the ground right before he exited the front gate; the last thing his daughter did was make a stone rubbing of the coat of arms which she then gingerly tucked away in her duffel bag. He's never seen anyone look like hell before but his first look at Daria would qualify as such. Maybe he had overreacted but when he caught a glimpse of her bruised, exhausted face he'd rushed over to her, ready and willing to hug her and never let go. The moment he had entered her personal space, she had snapped off a salute and moved to shake his hand. The urge to hug her had died and his confusion had started.

"What do you mean kiddo?"

She sighs and laces her hands together as she looks into her coffee cup in contemplation. "My plan was to ignore all of you as much as I could before I skated out of Maryland with a diploma and a bag of my things. As much as I want to do that, I want to be better." She looks up sharply and he feels like she's skewered him. "I don't want to be better for you people; I want to be better for myself. I know that if I let you, mom, and Quinn affect me to that point, I'll become the sullen little girl I used to be. I'm not that person anymore; I don't want to **be** that person anymore. So even though I could do everything in my power to make your life hell, I think I'd like to take the path of least resistance and find out how we can make the next three years as painless as possible for us all."

Jake feels like he's been punched in the throat. "We just want you to be a part of the family again. That's all."

She laughs and he's kind of entranced because he doesn't think he's ever heard her do so. "Dad, come on. Seriously? I know mom was trying to sell me that line but I expected better from you. Five years without a face to face visit and you expect me to believe that you missed me and wished I was there every day I was gone? I'm not a kid anymore and I'm not going to pretend that anything ties me to you beyond DNA on my part and parental obligation on yours. You shipped me across the country at the first sign that I wasn't just disappointed with the world but that I was seriously pissed off at it and even though I don't blame you anymore, I'm not gonna pretend we're the Waltons."

"What do you mean you don't blame me anymore? You said you were never going to forgive me for sending you to Buxton Ridge."

A fierce expression is painted across her face. "I'm not. Until the day I die, I will never forget that your solution to me writing a story was to send me to a place you claimed to loathe with all of your heart. I'm never going to forgive you and I stand by that statement, but I find that I can thank you. Buxton Ridge changed me and at first I resisted that change like I used to resist everything but when I stopped, I found people I could relate to and things that made me happy. Was I ecstatic to be there? No, and for the record, that's the only reason I'm coming to Maryland in the first place besides mom's offer to pay for the college of my choice. I got beat up, tossed around, ridiculed, spat at, and every day was a struggle to push myself to the next level just so I could be told I still wasn't good enough. If it wasn't for Grandma Barksdale and her willingness to host me during my breaks, I probably would have gone crazy. But when I was finally willing to show them all how brilliant I could be, I found respect from others and for myself. Virginia has been very good to me and more than that, it taught me to be good to myself. But that's because I kept working and striving, not hiding behind a book and cynical comments. I can do anything I set my mind to and if I thought that was why you sent me there, I'd be happy to see you and happy to go home. But since that's not the case and since I wasn't born yesterday, why don't you cut the crap and tell me what you _really_ want from me."

He speaks, angry, not noticing or caring how his voice gets steadily louder. "What was I supposed to do? I come into your room and find a notebook filled with a graphic story about how everyone in Highland dies. My baby writing the most brutal, disgusting things happening to actual human beings and laughing when she's the last one standing. And what's worse is everyone in your family, your own flesh and blood die the goriest and bloodiest deaths of them all and the only thing you can say when you find our mutilated corpses is "that's a shame" and microwave yourself some lasagna. I was afraid that you were going to grab a gun one day and put bullets in everything that breathed. WHAT THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?" He's up and out of his seat, standing as he screams down at her upturned face.

She stands up and gets close in his face and there's a part of him that idly notes she's not flinching like she used to do when he started to scream himself hoarse. "How about you do some parenting and try to realize why I wrote it? I didn't give a damn if any of those people lived or died and I didn't really wish any of you dead but look at what I lived with. Every day I went to a school where I was treated like a freak because I didn't dress and act like I was walking down a runway and every day I have two IDIOTS following me around calling me Diarrhea. So I go through all of that and then I come home and what do I come home to? A mom who when she didn't have her ear glued to the phone made constant comparisons to me and my sister, making it clear that she felt that I was the one lacking even though if you stood near Quinn's head, you could've heard the ocean roaring. Speaking of Quinn, she tells everyone at school that'll listen that I'm her cousin or au pair or the family servant and they believe her because she's just that good of a liar. And at home if she wasn't calling me a four-eyed geek like that was my name, she was holding my books for ransom to get me to leave our room so she could talk about how much of a tool I was to her little friends. And the man that's supposed to be my dad never defends me and he never tries to stop the constant barrage against my character and person. All he can do is what he does best and that's hide behind a newspaper when he wasn't ranting about how his _daddy_ messed him up. WHAT WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO DO? HOW ABOUT BE A MAN AND ACT LIKE YOU HAVE A PAIR!"

All his life he'd been told to "be a man" and "act like he had a pair" by Mad Dog and then he went off to college and never saw him again. All of his life he had lived in fear of his father and sometimes, he thought about pushing the man down the stairs and ending it once and for all. And if he had ever gotten the up the guts to do it, he would've broken his mother's heart but he would have smiled every day for the rest of his life and remembered it as the greatest thing he'd ever done. He had promised himself the day he left home that if by some miracle he ever saw Mad Dog again, he'd do what he never had the guts as a kid and kill him where he stood.

The moment after his eldest daughter uses her grandfather's trademark phrase everything goes blank and before he can think, he's lunged across the table and wrapped his hands around her neck. He can't see anything through his rage but he's pretty sure Daria smiles and then all hell breaks loose. She judo tosses him out of their booth and he lands in the aisle way, catching her foot as she jumps from the tabletop and tries to stomp him in the face. He's on his feet and all of his old training comes back as they go hand to hand as they move throughout the room. She's swept his legs out from under him and knocked him to the floor but when she tries to kick him in the chest of his freshly standing form, he catches her leg and throws her across the room. She lands on a table, disrupting the meal of a slack-jawed couple and their children. Some semblance of sanity is returning to him and he comes back to himself in time to hear Daria laughing uproariously.

She stands up and dusts herself off, looking relaxed for the first time since he picked her up from Buxton Ridge. "Sorry about that folks. Just a little family disagreement." She approaches their terrified looking waitress and hands her a couple of bills that look suspiciously like 100's. "This should take care of our bill and any damage we caused. Sorry about the mess." She addresses the diners next. "I hope we haven't ruined your meal. Come on dad. Let's get out of here before someone calls the cops."

The waitress speaks. "I already did."

"Well we really need to beat it then, now don't we?" Daria's grabbing her messenger bag and his keys from the table before tugging him by the arm out the door. He thinks he's in something like a catatonic state because he doesn't protest when she shoves him in the passenger side of his Lexus and takes the wheel. He does know he loses about five years off his life when she takes the corner out of the parking lot on two wheels. Her face is flushed and happy as she sings along with Jose Feliciano on the radio.

"Oh...California Dreaming on such a winter's day..."

-Missing Reel-

July 22, 1997  
2:23 P.M EST  
Henrico County, Virginia  
Parking Lot Of The Richmond International Raceway

On this day I see clearly  
Everything has come to life  
A bitter place and a broken dream  
And we'll leave it all behind

Metalingus - Alter Bridge

"...and no matter what I did I couldn't get him to look at me and go "you know what? I raised a fine son". If once, just once, he had said that I wouldn't have hated him so much. I want you to know I'm proud of you kiddo. If you hadn't stopped, you would've beaten me like I stole something I think." His face is officially numb thanks to the tequila he's drunk and he's glad for that because his kid packs a hell of a punch.

"Thanks, that means a lot cause you're like the boogie monster to some of the instructors back at The Ridge. You want another shot?" Her voice is slurred and her head is heavy where it's pressed against his.

"Sure, why not?" She grabs the shot glass and passes it to him after she fills it up. It goes down harsher than any martini he's ever drank but Daria's still a kid and doesn't know good liquor yet. He remembers the crap they used to drink when they snuck into the town way back when and grimaces even as he sucks on a lime. Helen's very far away and he honestly doesn't care that she wouldn't approve of him drinking with Daria. This is the most they've ever gotten along without ignoring each other and he's just thankful he didn't kill her.

"I did miss you kiddo. Not every minute of every day but that's cause you were always so quiet. I never knew you were there when you were a kid until you were right in front of me. Quinn's gotten unbearable these last few years and your mom practically kisses her ass when I want to tell her to stop being such a brat most of the time." He sits up and looks down at his daughter through his bleary vision. "I'm sorry we never visited you and I'm sorry I shipped you off to Buxton Ridge. The fact of the matter is, I didn't know what to do with you and I didn't know how to make you happy and I'm sorry. I'm so..." That's when he realizes that his vision isn't blurry just because he's drunk but because he's tearing up too. "I'm so sorry you were miserable in Highland Daria."

She's hugging him and from where her voice is muffled in his neck, he can hear her broken voice. "That's all I ever wanted to hear. I thought you didn't love me. The whole ride to the airport you didn't speak to me and then you told me you were doing it for my own good. Quinn laughed at me the whole morning and mom wouldn't even come see me off. I sat on that plane and I felt so scared because Buxton Ridge might as well have been the 7th circle of hell the way you described it. I don't want to be mad at you anymore because I'm sick of thinking about it and I'm sick of working myself into a frenzy every time I think about it. For years I thought you couldn't wait to get rid of me and you weren't were you? Please don't lie to me."

"I wasn't Daria. I love you and I'll always love you. You're my kiddo. We never came to see you because your mom wanted us all to come together and Quinn's scared to fly so..." Daria's head shoots up so fast that it makes him topple off the hood of the car to the ground. He's never seen her mad before and it's like seeing the sun come out from behind the clouds because to be honest, her little "I'm a blank facade" look that she had as a child had always made him frustrated beyond belief sometimes. But he becomes afraid what this means for his other daughter as Daria starts pacing and flinging her hands around.

"Quinn said she was afraid to fly? QUINN SAID SHE WAS AFRAID TO FLY! For five years, I thought you didn't care enough to come visit me but now I find out that little _whore_ is why you never came! Ohh she's gonna get it. I'm gonna take my foot and shove it directly up her retarded, selfish, skanky..."

-Missing reel-

So sayonara, try tomorrow, nice to know ya  
Our baby's traveled back to the arms of her rightful owner  
And suddenly it seems like my shoulder blades have just shifted  
It's like the greatest gift you can get, the weight has been lifted

Hallie's Song - Eminem

July 22, 1997  
10:35 P.M EST  
Lawndale, Maryland  
The Morgendorffer's New Home

He ends up carrying her from the car to the living room. If she didn't have a hangover in the morning, she had more of Mad Dog in her than he thought. Say what you wanted about the bastard but he had the devil's luck when it came to morning afters. All of the furniture from Highland will be coming with Helen and the only thing he has in his trunk is a suitcase full of clothes, a set of sheets, and some personal effects. Daria said she'd shop for food in the morning and then it'd be them alone until September. He hopes they can talk to each other like they did today; minus the liquor of course. There's half a bottle of tequila left if that's what it took though.

He knows that he doesn't know the girl in front of him and he never did but he wants to try for the first time ever. He's sorry he never took the time to do so and he's sorry that it took a fist fight between them to get them to talk to each other like they wanted to. Even if she clams up and never speaks honestly to him again, he's not going to put his hands on her. She doesn't seem to mind but if that had been Quinn or Helen... He shudders when he thinks about his wife or youngest daughter's lifeless form lying at his feet. He's never sought help for his outburts of temper but that had to change. If he had to spend the rest of his life in anger management he would. Daria's words echo in his head. (_And the man that's supposed to be my dad never defends me and he never tries to stop the constant barrage against my character and person. All he can do is what he does best and that's hide behind a newspaper when he wasn't ranting about how his __**daddy**__ messed him up_.) A lot of things had to change and if he had to fight Helen every step of the way, they were going to.

His daughter's finally home and he never wants to let her out of his sight again.

AN: Much like Grindhouse, you have to make up your own stories of what happened during the missing scenes.


	7. Interlude Three

Disclaimer: I don't own Daria or Incubus

Interlude 3: A Break In The Clouds Hypothetically Speaking (Alternately Titled: How A 'Very Important Person' Kept Daria From Taking A Permanent Nap)

We all have a sickness  
That cleverly attaches and multiplies  
No matter how we try  
We all have someone that digs at us  
At least we dig each other

Dig- Incubus

May 20, 1995  
10:31 A.M EST  
Bumpass, Virginia  
Barksdale Castle Library

"Oh, Chriiiissss. Where are you?"

He dives into the library, closing the door as softly as he can. He starts bringing the blinds down over the double doors, even as he starts muttering to himself. "Go enjoy yourself, she said. I'll watch the kids and you go relax before the competition, she says. How the hell am I supposed to be relaxing? If Evelyn's not hounding me about going into politics, I've got her daughter following me around trying to play footsie. And when her daughter's not having a go at me, conveniently ignoring the ring on my finger, it's her granddaughter making googly eyes at the dinner table. What on earth have I done to deserve this?"

"Besides being ridiculously good looking? Not a damned thing. Though I suspect around a Barksdale woman that's enough on its own."

He turns around, startled to find himself with company. He's thankful that it's not Evelyn or Erin because despite their behavior, he was still a guest in their house. It couldn't be Rita; he left her eating his dust in the hallway. It must be Evelyn's other granddaughter; the one that was his "biggest fan" according to Evelyn, who'd been absent at meals since his arrival. Daria, who'd apparently been in a bad accident and was still recovering from the reconstructive surgery.

He could see why the accident had been termed 'bad' and you didn't have to be a genius to know her face was still healing. Most of it was wrapped in bandages and the parts of skin he could see were covered in bruises and stitches. A pair of grey eyes peered out at him, red and unfocused as they looked at him. A book sat in her lap and a glass of orange juice next to a bottle of pills rested on the table beside her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were in here."

She stands up, wobbly on her feet. "Hmm. From what I just heard, you weren't very concerned about being anywhere else but where Rita wasn't. _I'm_ sorry I haven't been around to watch Aunt Rita throw herself at you; watching her embarrass herself is like an episode of Dallas. Let me look at you." She staggers over to him and to his incredulity; the girl appears to be as drunk as the day is long.

He frowns even as he moves to shake her hand. "I thought Rita was your mother too." He leans forward to sniff at her and confirm his suspicions and becomes even more alarmed at the way she backpedals from him to land on her ass. "Is that vodka I smell? Are you drunk?"

She gets up and walks over to her seat. "Oh god no! Err...that is Rita's not my mother. But yeah I am kinda drunk." She tosses the rest of her drink back in a neat motion. "Fuck a bunch of wheaties. Screwdrivers are the real breakfast of champions."

This is as amused as he's been by anything in this place yet. "What are you? 10, 11 years old and you're drunk."

She scowls at him from her high-back chair. "I'm 13 thank you very much and there's no drinking age in Virginia."

Now while he believes in everyone's right to do what they wish in their own home, he won't be made a fool of. "There's a _national_ drinking age and its 21."

"I didn't think that gambit through very well did I?"

"No you didn't." He peers closer in the darkness and looks at her eyes again. "You're not high too are you? Cause that's just plain illegal."

She blinks slowly at him. "My eyes are red because they're dry. I just had LASIK surgery and I can't find my eye drops. I'm not willing to go careening around looking for them either so dry they'll stay."

He thinks about what he knows concerning corrective eye surgery. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"You wanna play fetcher? They're in my room in the top drawer of my bedside table. You go up the back stairs and it's the third door to the right. I'd be much obliged." Her face is miserable where it looks up at him and as much as he doesn't want to go out there again, he knows Evelyn and sending her drunken granddaughter to go is the worst thing to do for all concerned. He's back and even though it hadn't taken him five minutes, her glass is full again. A seat across from her becomes his and he watches as she medicates herself.

Her hands shake as she puts in the drops and they immediately start to look better when she's done. They're studying each other and though he doesn't know what she sees, he's looking at a slight brunette girl dressed in a long sleeved shirt and sweats with a poor disposition. He's supposed to stay for one more night but as he looks at the sullen girl in front of him, he decides he's getting the hell out of Bumpass while the getting was good.

She speaks, interrupting his perusal of her. "Can a good person do bad things for a good reason? I mean obviously you've gotta be a real bastard to kill a baby or bomb a city but does it matter if there's good intentions behind something like that?"

He thinks and shakes his head when he makes a decision on where he stands on the topic. "No it doesn't. Actions are actions. It doesn't matter why you do something when the end result's still the same."

She looks skeptical. "So if I kill someone because I have undeniable proof that they're the Antichrist, that's the same as taking Joe Schmoe off the streets and killing them for no reason?" He gets up and picks up her tumbler and idly drains it before taking his seat again. He's amused at the death glare she's sending him and even though he knows he technically just committed a faux pas, he needs it to deal with what's becoming a very surreal morning.

He stands by his statement. "No. Killing someone is killing someone. You can have the best reason in the world and there's still a dead body. Nothing changes that."

She leans forward. "So getting beat to hell and back; it doesn't matter why someone would do that?'She deserved it' or 'they asked for it' are justifications, nothing more and nothing less yeah?"

He's confused. "What are we talking about here?"

She tilts her head to the side and even though they're no longer red, her eyes are just as unfocused as when he entered the room. "What do you think we're talking about here?"

He thinks back to how she jumped from him leaning forward and barely shook his hand, even though she was the one who initiated the contact. He casts back in his recent memory and the phrase 'she deserved it' is right there. He speaks slowly, ideas taking form in his head. "I think we're talking about a hypothetical situation here because you being thrown from a horse caused your facial injuries, if your grandmother's to be believed."

She nods and speaks just as slowly, red spreading across the parts of her face he can see as focus finally makes an entrance in those eyes. "Yeah. I was riding at school when I was thrown from a gelding and landed smack on my face." She takes a deep breath and keeps talking. "So hypothetically speaking, could there be a good reason to brutally assault someone that trusted and respected you?"

He's still confused but not so confused that he doesn't understand that a real-fake hypothetical conversation about killing the antichrist had become a pretend-fake conversation about battery. "It doesn't matter the reason. The end result is still the same." He notices details about the room like a pile of clothes shoved in a corner and a pillow hiding under a desk. "Hypothetically speaking though, a person who went through something like that would have all the right in the world to want to hide in a dark room full of books but I would think that that'd be pretty pointless when all was said and done. I'd make the person who could make me hide away like that and have me feel like there could even **be** a good reason for something like that eat it for the rest of their life. Hypothetically speaking of course."

She sits up in her chair, posture noticeably straighter. "But a person in a situation like that is entitled to feel like crap though, right? Every day they wake up and look in the mirror only to see that their face still looks like a sledgehammer was taken to it by someone they admired and looked up to. And when their face isn't throbbing like it's on fire, their eyes are burning because being unable to see at anytime is no longer an option for them." She rattles the pills in his direction. "Hypothetically speaking, a person's got the right to say 'game over' when their own parents won't talk to them or come see them and their closest relatives are convinced she's hiding out because she's afraid of horses stampeding the house cause she's gotta make up something to complement the story she's sticking to till she dies. I mean, why wait until another indignity is heaped on the pile you know. And this is all hypothetical."

He's feeling serious as hell because while the conversations changed again, he's no longer confused about what they're talking about anymore. "That person's life is theirs to do with what they will. But I wouldn't let a person who _could_ beat someone that respected and trusted them drive me to taking my own life and I damn sure wouldn't let a pair of parents who couldn't be there when I really needed them dictate anything I did. And hypothetically speaking, the game's not over until it's **really** over."

They stare at each other and her face suddenly cracks into a slight smile. "Hypothetically speaking, I wouldn't mind if Aunt Rita did the impossible and you became my uncle."

He laughs, glad that the tension's leaving the room. "Hypothetically speaking, it'd be a cold day in hell before I leave my wife for someone like Rita. Can I convince you to go riding with me, thus ending the hypothetical myth that you're afraid of horses?"

She smiles even wider this time and he can suddenly see how she'll look when her face is all healed up. "Yeah but we better not let Grandma Evelyn catch us." She puts the tumbler into what turns out to be a hollowed globe and grabs her shoes from the pile of clothes in the corner. "She's already convinced you should be the next person she propels into politics. If she decides you're the second coming, she's gonna bankroll your bid for the '96 Presidency whether you want to run or not."

As they exit the library, he has to ask. "You've never seen one of my movies have you?"

"Not even the one where you fly, Mr. Reeve. Though I bet Rita wouldn't mind seeing you in spandex."

Before he leaves for Culpeper, he signs the poster Evelyn gives him anyway. "Daria - Unhypothetically speaking, I think you'll be okay. Sincerely, Christopher."

AN: No disrespect intended to Christopher Reeve's memory or his family. I just saw how the timeline was stacking up and I said to myself 'bad things come in threes' and here we are.


	8. A Night At The Zon

Disclaimer: I don't own Daria or Hot Hot Heat

AN: This chapter includes what some would consider a controversial conversation about the lead singer of Nirvana Kurt Cobain

Chapter 4: A Night At The Zon (Alternately Titled: Why Mystic Spiral Stays Far Away From Southern Comfort)

So perfect you paint it... yet so manipulated.  
So calm and so patient... yet oh so calculated.  
So safe and comforting... this doesn't feel like flirting.  
So fun I'm distracted... forgot you keep track of it

Talk To Me, Dance With Me - Hot Hot Heat

August 2, 1997  
12:17 A.M EST  
Lawndale, Maryland  
The Zon

"Hey, we're Mystic Spiral and we'll be back for our next set in half an hour. Oh and we're thinking about changing our name."

Another day, another gig at the Zon. Sometimes he thinks that this is all he'll ever do with his life and most days he's okay with that. But sometimes when the fights with Nick and Max got a little too vicious and Jesse's a little too blank, he thinks about getting as far away from Lawndale as his feet can carry him. But leaving Janey to the tender mercy of his forgetful parents and the hounds of the IRS will never be his style so he pushes on like he always does. Days like these were the good ones. Janey was safe at home and the fridge had food in it. It's the little things that keep him going.

Monique's waiting for him when he gets off stage and they go out back and make-out. 10 minutes later he's pretty sure they're broken up again but he can't be expected to keep track of all the times they're on and off. When she shows up again, he'll just assume they're back on. Life with Monique was like that; things were on her terms or they weren't happening at all. She's a downer sometimes and he never knows what she wants from him but then again, she doesn't give him too much hassle about his lifestyle and she's a musician so it's all gotta be taken philosophically. You got to take the good with the bad.

After he takes a piss, he heads over to the bar and orders a beer that's taken away from what they're paid for their gigs. He thinks in about a year or two they'll have made more than they spend getting drinks. Jesse's nowhere to be seen but Max and Nick are huddled in a corner with some girl and he's curious enough to go over and see what's going on. As he gets near he sees that Jesse's slumped over in the booth, snoring, his head resting on the chick's lap. There's a pile of flipped cards on the table and when they flip a king, everyone takes a shot. He's got a bird's eye view of the table and he's privy to what looks like her spitting her drink back in a mug of beer before she takes a sip of Max's beer. She seems pretty drunk already and he knows that Max and Nick would call bulls*** on any welshing because they both had iron stomachs. He found that out during the incident dubbed "Another One Bites The Dust" in the fall of '91 and that's why he doesn't play drinking games with them anymore. He's right next to the booth and he hears Nick railing about one of his favorite topics: Nirvana.

"See man everyone's like, 'Kurt Cobain's suicide was the death of grunge'. Fuck that. Kurt's suicide was the death of everything real in music. He was a legend."

She chugs her beer and flips a card, which makes her quickly point to the sky. Max groans and takes a shot since he was the last one to point up. One of her hands play with her shot glass and the other threaded in Jesse's hair. "That's the same song and dance people have been selling since '94.'Oh grunge is dead, Nirvana's dead, _Kurt's_ dead'. People were even saying it was the death of rock and roll and I had to keep my mouth shut and bite my tongue when I heard that. I don't like to speak ill of the dead but Cobain was determined to do himself in and if it wasn't for him dying, there'd be no Foo Fighters. The best thing Nirvana ever did was covering Bowie's The Man Who Sold The World and Foo Fighters whole album kicks ass. In ten years, people are still gonna be crying over that tool when he would have sold out the first chance he got."

Nick gets really still and Trent's waiting for him to jump over the table and knock her block off. One thing you did not do around Nick was diss Kurt Cobain and you sure as hell don't say he was a sellout. This is the point where he decides to make an entrance. "Hey what's going on?"

Nick stands up and moves away from the table. "What did you just say?"

She looks up at him and that's when Trent notices her looking at Max out of the corner of her eye and Max making a 'keep going' motion. She takes a deep breath and Trent's feeling of foreboding gets deeper when she stands up and moves right into Nick's face. "I said Kurt Cobain would've sold out the first chance he got. If grunge hadn't of died with him, it would of died eventually. People can only take so much whining and flannel shirts when you get right down to it. I mean a guy's gotta be a real jackass to write his suicide note to his imaginary friend. After all..." What she would've said next remains a mystery because Nick decks her. And when he means decks her, he really means decks her. In all of the fights Nick and Max ever had, he's never seen Nick land a punch like that. The girl goes flying and lands near the foot of the bar and he's about to step in when she and Max start laughing.

Max was over there and helping her up, even as she clutches her jaw and laughs. "I told you he'd hit you if you called Cobain a jackass." They make their way back over to the booth bypassing a stunned Nick and Max gives her a bill out of his pocket. "You earned that $20 girlie."

Her jaw's clenched as she puts her mug of beer against it. "And yet, I feel like I accomplished nothing." She notices Nick still standing there looking like he'll punch the next thing he sees. "No hard feelings dude. Your friend came over and told me he'd give me a dub if I could make you deck me." She licks her free hand and smacks Max on the back of his head looking pleased at his yelp. "Granted, the son-of-a-bitch didn't tell me you hit like a Mack truck so I guess we're even. Sorry I said that fucked up stuff about Cobain.

Nick snaps out of it. "You didn't mean it?"

She pokes at her jaw as she answers. "Naw. I don't even listen to Nirvana or the Foo Fighters. If it isn't Frank Sinatra, The Eagles, or Jimmy Hendrix I pretty much tune out. If I hear something good on the radio I might look 'em up though."

Nick looks relieved. "Oh good, you're not an asshole. You just don't know good music."

She looks mutinous. "I dare you to listen to Hotel California and not get a hard-on."

Jesse pops up out of his sleep. "Someone say hard-on?"

The three of them burst out laughing as him and Jesse look on bewildered. "What's everyone laughing about?"

Max sees him and waves him over. "Trent! Come meet Daria. Daria, Trent's our Fearless Leader."

He eyes her wearily. He doesn't know if he wants to shake her hand but he's pretty much forced to when she sticks her hand out. He's never seen anyone but Max get Nick riled up and Nick and Max have known each other since they were kids. He doesn't like drama and he's learned to avoid it by calling it a mile away. This Daria girl makes his meter go off just sitting there looking up at him. "Hey." He turns to the rest of the band and makes a decision. "Guys, we gotta play the second set in a few. Go get cleaned up and I'll meet you on the stage."

She reaches in a messenger bag and pulls out a magazine and sharpie. A number's quickly scribbled down and she hands it off to Max. "Go do your thing and call me when you get a chance. I just moved into town and I'm probably gonna throw a house-warming party when I have the time. You should come by."

Nick stands there and looks sheepish. "Sorry I punched you. Are you gonna be okay?"

She drains her beer before standing up and giving Nick a fist bump. "No worries man. What's a punch or two between me and a guy I just met? Later dudes."

"Hey guys I'll be right back." He follows her out of the front door of the Zon. "Hey Daria."

She looks back and squints up at him. "Trent, right? What's up?"

He looks down at her and feels an intense wave of dislike at the charming smile on her face. "I need you to stay away from my guys. You're the kind of chick that'll break a band up just for the hell of it. We don't need that."

She cocks an eyebrow at him. "Is this about what happened in there? That was just a bet."

He shakes his head. "Yeah to you it was just a bet. But Nick would've killed you if he'd been in a different mood tonight and Max would've egged him on just for the hell of it." He looks closer, looking beyond the attitude and general air of 'hey I'm cool' she's giving off. "Jesus Christ! You're like my little sister's age and you're hanging out in a dump like the Zon this late at night? Go home to your little high school life and stop trying to run with grown men. I don't know how you're not unconscious but consider that punch Nick gave you a warning and stay away from my band."

She backs up and raises her hands. To his surprise, the smile's still on her face. "Chill fearless leader, chill. I guess you won't be coming to the house warming then."

"No I won't. And I'll make sure they don't either."

She laughs, seeming amused with the whole conversation. "I think Max likes me and I know even if it's just to school me on good music, I'll be seeing Nick again. I don't care about your crappy band, playing your crappy music, in a crappy bar and I don't care what you think. I'll see you when I see you fearless." She walks down the street and doesn't look back.

"Man I hope I never see her again."


	9. Interlude Four

Disclaimer: I don't own Daria or Team America

Interlude 4: Even Rocky Had A Montage (Alternately Titled: The Way Coach Datson Made A Man Out Of Daria)

Show a lot of things happening at once,  
Remind everyone of what's going on (what's going on)  
And with every shot show a little improvement  
To show it all would take too long!  
That's called a montage (MONTAGE)  
Girl, we want a montage (MONTAGE)

Montage - Team America: World Police

September 12, 1995  
2:35 P.M EST  
Buxton Ridge, Virginia  
Buxton Ridge Military Academy (Gym B)

"Morgendorffer! Off the speed bag and get over here." He turns to the group of new cadets. "I pretty much have to order her off that thing most days."

Across the room, the lone female in the gym turns around and starts to move closer. She unwrapped the wraps from her hands as she came closer to them and paused to drape them around her neck before she addressed him. "Sir. What can I do for you?"

"Cadet Morgendorffer, this is Cadet Freemont. You'll be getting to know each other soon enough but first things first. I need you to show the new cadets around the gym for me. The pool, the locker rooms, you know the drill. The rest of them already have mentors but I need you to take Cadet Freemont and give him the run down on what he can expect during his time here at Buxton Ridge. After you're done, I want you to take him to the dining hall and then you can finish your workout if you so choose. Can I expect you to get these things done thoroughly and in a timely manner, Miss Morgendorffer?"

She nods firmly. "Of course you can sir. Come on. We'll start with the boxing ring."

He watches her walk off with the group following her. As he makes his way over to the weight room, he thinks about her dedication to boxing. At first, you couldn't have gotten her to step in the ring.

_"Why on Earth would I want to step into that thing just so I can get the crap beat out of me? I'm already afraid of getting shot in this place; the last thing I need is to get brain damage before it happens."_

_"Boxing is a sport of strategy Cadet. You're not even allowed to step in my ring before you get the technique down. And that's not going to happen if you just stand there and bitch. I'll start with teaching you how to wrap your hands and get you started on the speed bag. I'm not asking."_

He'd gotten her to do what he told her but that had been Morgendorffer's problem back then; she did what she was told but that was all.

_"I've been jumping rope for five minutes. Can I go now?"_

_"The idea is for you to work up your endurance. I told you five minutes in the hope that you'd work your way up in the interest of the cardiovascular training I've been trying to instill in you. But I did specify five minutes so you may leave Cadet."_

_"Thank you. Ivanhoe waits."_

Slowly but surely, he'd gotten her interest peaked when it came to the jump rope. Coach Webber had done the impossible and gotten the girl interested in track and field. Her increased interest was garnered by the fact that it'd help her out on the field but she was still unenthusiastic when it came to either of the bags.

_"I just don't understand what this is supposed to accomplish. The bag barely moves when I hit it and I'm scared it'll come flying into me and knock me to the ground."_

_"That's why I'm holding onto it. If it had to happen, you'd probably be the only person in the world capable of being crushed to death by a bag filled with **sand**, Morgendorffer. It can't hurt you. Now give me a combination and do it right this time!" _

He'd almost given up on her. 2 years of her giving mediocre results when it came to his beloved sport had taken his toll on him. In running, she succeeded. In swimming, she excelled. The girl could barely hit a target but when you considered the fact she couldn't have hit the side of a barn when she first got here, even that was an improvement. He had despaired of ever getting her into even the gentlest of rounds in the ring. He'd almost tried to get her switched to field hockey even though he had known she could be a good swarmer or a counter puncher and at the least boxing would complement the cardio of swimming and running, but she had went on medical leave and it became a moot point. Her first day back she'd went to town on the heavy bag with an intensity he wouldn't have thought her capable of.

_"Good. Work the upper body. Add some foot work into it. Let it come to you; don't force it. Give it an uppercut. Good."_

She worked hard during the last half of the summer session and her first match in the ring had been a good one, even if she'd lost.

_"See. That was nothing to be afraid of. He didn't knock you out and if this had been an amateur match, you would've won by points alone. I don't know where you got your motivation from but I'm glad it finally arrived."_

She'd passed the unit and even though she didn't have to be over there doing it, almost every day he found her on one of the bags. One of the heavy bags might as well have been hers with how much time she spent on it. It was the only one in the gym that was filled with padding instead of sand and it had fresh rips on it that were all from her. By the time the school semester officially started, they'd probably have to retire it.

_"Don't just stand there and wail on it, use some footwork. Move around a little for Christ sake's. No one's gonna stand there and let you go to town on them."_

_"I pretty much just wanna beat on this."_

Maybe he'd save it and ship it out to her after she left.


	10. Two Girls A Guy And The Pigskin Channel

Disclaimer: I don't own Daria or The Red Hot Chili Peppers

AN: Man. University of Virginia and North Carolina go at it. They even call their beef "The South's Oldest Rivalry" That's aged to a perfection beef right there

Chapter 5: Two Girls, A Guy, And The Pigskin Channel (Alternately Tiled: O Cousin, Where Art Thou?)

My friends are so depressed  
I feel the question of your loneliness  
Confide 'cause I'll be by your side  
You know I will, you know I will

My Friends - The Red Hot Chili Peppers

August 20, 1997  
4:32 P.M EST  
Lawndale, Maryland  
The Morgendorffer Living Room

"Thanks for letting me stay Uncle Jake. Sometimes it's nice to get out of Virginia for a while." Erin looks up into the sympathetic gaze of her only uncle.

"No problem Erin. I'm glad that you're here and you're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. I'm going out to dinner with Andrew; he wants me to meet a friend of his. You kids have fun."

"You too dad. Me and Kevin are going to watch the rest of the game. He's gonna stay for dinner; I'm ordering Chinese." Her cousin's laid out on her stomach, eyes fixed on the television in front of her. Her friend Kevin sat on the couch, eyes equally fixed on the game.

"That's fine. Kevin, make sure you call your parents and let them know you're staying over here for dinner."

"Sure Mr. M."

Jake leaves and Erin turns to Daria where she's sitting on the Lazy Boy. "Ok. What are we doing tonight, D? Yesterday you took me to a grunge club and the day before that we went to the arcade. Tell me you've got something awesome planned."

Daria's eyes stay on the TV. "We're not doing anything tonight. Me and Kevin are gonna finish watching the game and then Kevin's going to help me put together the bedroom furniture Grandma Barksdale sent you down here with. Relax; you've been dragging me all over this dang town. Now shut up and watch the game."

She huffs and leans back in her seat. "Don't tell me to shut up. And why on earth would I want to watch a game that's two years old when we could be out doing something fun?"

Kevin turns to look at her, matching Daria's face perfectly with its utter incredulity as her cousin also stares from where she's turned to face her. "Dude, it's the '95 UVa vs. Florida State game. It was so epic they stormed the field afterwards. It's like, the greatest game Virginia ever played."

Daria retorts from where she's grinning up at Kevin. "Bite your tongue. We _killed_ UNC last year. I got cafeteria duty for a month cause I went to see that game. It coulda been 2 and it would have been worth it. Every time I had to scrub pots, I pictured the faces of those damned Tar Heels when we shut them out at Scott for the 15th time in a row and it was like I was living it over and over again."

His face is painfully wistful. "Man, I wish I coulda been there. I'd give my Jeep to have been there." His face brightens as he continues. "At least it's coming on tomorrow. I can come over and watch it with you, yeah?"

Daria shakes her head, looking regretful. "I'm not even going to be here but my dad might wanna watch it if you catch him in the right mood; he's usually not up for much of Virginia anything. I'm driving back with Erin tomorrow. Grandma Evelyn wants to see me before school starts." She flops back on her stomach as annoyance enters her voice. "I know Grandma Evelyn doesn't like to travel much but she could've come down with you. She acts like the castle's Tara or something. I don't even know why she wants to see me; I was just down there to visit before I left The Ridge."

See, this is why people don't like to tell her things. It's like she has diarrhea when there's a secret locked inside her and it'll come out at the most inconvenient moment. Well, there are people along the road to Virginia that didn't even have to ask and she told them anyway. But she couldn't be blamed for blurting it out; it was all just so...utterly Daria that she'd flip her freaky little lid.

_Don't say it Erin...Don't you dare blurt it out; grandma's gonna kill you._"It's a car. She wanted to give it to you as a gift for leaving Buxton Ridge but the guy who sold it to her couldn't get it ready in time. It's so freaking cool Daria and you'll never guess what it is. Guess? Guess? It's a..." She claps her hands over her mouth and gasps. "I wasn't supposed to tell you that."

Daria's completely turned from the television. "Grandma Evelyn got me a car. This is the woman that thinks 'teenage independence' is a garage band? She bought me a car!" She's standing in front of her, looking intently at her from above. "What is it? Come on; tell me it's a Honda. I know it's something economical and business-like because she thinks that's what I'd need but tell me it's a Honda and not like a town-car or something that I'm supposed to have a freakin' _driver_ for. Please tell me she got me something I could actually drive to school in."

She can't take it anymore. "They didn't make Hondas in the 60's... I didn't just say that."

Daria's eyes are so wide she looks like a cartoon character. "She got me an _oldie_? No you gotta tell me what it is." A smile slowly stretches across her face and she starts to approach her slowly. "You know I can make you tell me, right?"

Erin pushes out of her chair and shakes her head, backing away as Daria approaches. "I already told you too much. You can't tell grandma I told you; she'd probably make me clean out the horse stalls for the rest of my life. You gotta make sure you act surprised or she'll know. She'll _smell_ it Daria."

Her cousin's in her own world as she questions her. "She knows I like classic cars but I didn't think she'd ever buy me one. What is it? Maybe it's a Ford or a Chevy." She frowns as she starts to think more. "Wait a minute... "Her face gets horrified."It's not a New Yorker or a LeSabre is it? Far be it for me to tell someone what kind of free car to give me, but I can't square with fins; I just can't."

Sometimes you just had to run from Daria. Erin saw the Terminator when she was 12 years old and that relentless, mindless pursuit was Daria with something she wanted to know. Her cousin couldn't abide information being on a "need-to-know" basis. One night, and this was years ago when Erin was a teenager, Grandma Evelyn had a guest coming over for dinner and they all had to come even though she wouldn't let any of them know who was going to be there. Daria boycotted the meal and refused to come out of the stables even when it turned out to be Ruth coming back from a trip. Everyone had learnt that if you wanted Daria to do something, you damn well better be willing to answer some pointed questions about what was going on behind the scenes. And Erin had a weakness; a weakness that was easily exploited. Where torture, bribery, and puppy-dog eyes wouldn't break her, tickling would.

And Daria knew that.

So she runs. She hops over Kevin (who hasn't stopped watching the game) and runs up the stairs as fast as she can and she hears Daria running behind her, quickly catching up (the little shit not even stopping her yelling of random car names as she pursued her) even as she dives into the bathroom and locks the door behind her. Her triumphant laugh can't overwhelm the sounds of Daria's pounds on the door but she doesn't need it to. She just beat the little snot in a footrace when if you let grandma tell it, Daria was the Great White Hope of the track and field sport.

"You know I have a key to the bathroom right. You're right where I wanted you and you will be tickled and you will talk."

Okay so maybe she didn't win but Daria let her think she did when her style used to be a variation of "crushing superiority at all times" when they were younger. Mom used to push the two of them at each other and she was never so stupid as to think that mom had wanted them to get along. Any idiot could see that she thought that the more time that Daria spent with _her_ during school breaks, the less she'd spend with grandma and the less time and effort grandma would spend trying to groom her as the next heir or whatever. Her mom wanted that for Erin herself when you could set her on fire and if the ultimatum was burn to death or have the concentrated efforts and thoughts of one Evelyn Anne Barksdale solely focused on her for even 50% of the time, Erin wouldn't ask for water to put her out in a million years.

But as much as it pleased her to have her grandma's efforts shifted to someone else, her mother's maneuverings meant she had to spend time with a kid 5 years her junior. At first, she thought it'd be like having a little sister but Daria proved her wrong on that one. If she was unenthusiastic about having to spend time with her, Daria was even more disdainful of the idea. She'd been glad to only have to put up with her periodically and when she went back to Buxton Ridge, Erin simply went back to her life.

But Daria grew on her after a while. She liked horses and football and fast cars, which turned out to be pretty good bait for Virginia boys. All she had to do was take Daria with her to parties and set her loose on some of the boys and within no time, she'd be surrounded by hot guys who she could chat up while the other ones talked to her cousin. And if one of them gave the girl a drink from time to time thinking she wouldn't notice, Erin let it slide. It made her look good when she looked like she was taking an interest in her family and besides, Daria _liked _drinking and it was the only way to get her to relax and chill for a while back then.

As she got older, Daria had gone from pain in the ass to inconvenience to boy-bait to comrade. If you asked her just the right way, she'd be willing to lie to get the both of them out of some boring dinner or party and she had become less sullen and uptight as the years went on too. Erin herself would come sign her out on passes, freeing her from the Ridge on weekends so they could go up to UVa and go to parties and games. She didn't mind never getting to put make-up on her or play dress-up (except for that one time and she had paid out the nose for that, by god) because grandma did enough of that and Daria never fought _her_ on what she liked to call 'the little things'. They both enjoyed ragging on her mom's loser boyfriends and Erin had finally felt like she wasn't so bad to hang out with.

And then she left to Buxton Ridge for the last time. Erin didn't know when it was decided she was going back home, but she'd gotten the news in late May. Suddenly she realized she didn't know what she'd do without Daria there. When the boys she was talking to got a little too raucous, Daria'd distract them by bitching them out or belittling their manhood. Depending on how much of a creep the guy was, it'd be a blistering tirade against them and their parentage to the point where he'd stay away from her for a long time afterwards. Other times, it was the perfect thing to say to get them to back off a little. She was the best wingman ever because there was no competition for guys.

The girls she considered her friends were gossips and poachers. They were her friends but only to a certain extent. If she dropped the ball and let something slip, it'd be all over the county in a day's time and maybe it made her a bad person but that went the same way for her. If one of them liked a guy and he was interested in her instead, there was no loyalty to be found. It was a vicious game but that's how it went. Erin would never betray Daria even if they hadn't ended up getting along; she was a Barksdale no matter what their last names were and that meant something. She was family and they had each other's back no matter what.

Suddenly the prospect of being alone with her grandmother and mother as the only family around for miles had seemed like an entirely different matter altogether. She missed Daria and that's why she was out here; not because grandma wanted Daria to have some stupid bedroom set. Who knew when the next time she was going to see her would be and all those times they stood up for each other and helped each other would be lost and forgotten.

And then Quinn would have Daria back and she'd be alone again.

"Erin I'm back. You're lucky I had to root through the crap mom sent up here to find the key. Now are you gonna tell me or I'm going to have to come in there and make you?"

She leans back against the door and talks to Daria through the wood. "Now you know I can't tell you Daria. I'm already going to be in enough hot water as it is for spilling the beans about grandma bribing some random guy to get you a provisional license for Maryland. Shit!"

Daria's voice is amused through the door. "I was wondering why she'd be giving me a car before I even turned 16. Stop being a scaredy cat and tell me what it is."

"No but I'll tell you another secret."

There's a thump which turns out to be Daria sliding to the floor to sit and she in turn does the same."Oooh, this doesn't sound like random he-said-she-said bullshit. This actually sounds pretty juicy. Let me guess; Grandma Ruth and Grandma Evelyn are declaring their eternal love for one another by getting married on a skydiving excursion?"

Erin laughs, half disgusted. "You're gross. Where do you even come up with this stuff? Guess again."

"Hmm. Is Aunt Rita finally throwing in the towel and declaring herself a nun?"

She scoffs. "Mom in a habit? Only if it was designed by Versace. Guess again."

Daria's exasperated. "I don't know. Why don't you just tell me?"

Erin swallows, nervous at dropping the bomb she's been holding onto since she arrived. "I'm getting married."

Daria's voice is raised and later, Erin will get a kind of vindictive pleasure out of telling her she sounded like a chipmunk. "You're getting married? When? Where? Who? Why?"

She decides to lay it all out there for the first time since she's made the decision. "Yeah. I don't know; he has to ask first. Someplace expensive probably. Brian Danielson. He gave me herpes."

Daria's voice is back to its natural tone (better than that awful monotone she used to have). "I must have misheard. Herpes?"

She sighs. "I was dating him for a few months about a year ago. Just light and causal; nothing serious. We broke up and I guess he slept with someone else or something because when we got back together, a couple of weeks later I found out he had herpes and he gave it to me. I know he's gonna ask because grandma's pushing him to and he thinks having a wife will make him seem more mature. I'm going to say yes."

Daria's voice is firm. "Erin, get out here. I'm gonna slap you for even thinking like that and then I'm gonna get a bottle of water and hydrate. After that, I'm slapping you again and we're driving down to Virginia so I can string this douchebag up by his thumbs. He gave you herpes, ehh? He won't be giving anybody else herpes after I'm done with him. WHEN I GET TO THAT SORRY SON OF A-"

Erin interrupts her tirade before she gets full stream, knowing that if you let her, she'd go on for minutes at a time. "Daria! Calm down, please! This is hard enough as it is. Do you think I'm telling you this so you can go beat up on him? I have enough psycho ex-boyfriends of mom I could call that if I wanted, I could have him swimming in the Atlantic Ocean by sundown today. No one's gonna want me now Daria. He gave me herpes and if I'm stuck with it, I guess he's stuck with me. I'm telling you this because it's happening and I want you to be my maid of honor more than anything else in the world right now because that'll make this whole situation as right as it possibly can be."

There's silence on the other side and when she speaks again, her voice is calm and touched at the same time. "That's the sweetest and saddest thing I have ever heard in my life. You know that guy downstairs? Kevin?" She doesn't wait for her to speak an affirmative. "He's a lot like you actually; sweet, clueless, and kind of naive. The other day he asked me if I'd ever get married and I couldn't answer. Marriage is a trap Erin and the only way it's not a trap is when you love someone so much that you'd chain yourself to them for the rest of your life. Even then it's still a trap because the moment you think it's working, it's broke and you can't fix it half the time. 50% of marriages end with a fat lady singing Erin and that's the ones that don't end in a murder-suicide. It didn't work for your mom, it's not working for Kevin's parents, and the jury's still out on if it's working for mine. But then he told me something. You wanna know what it was?"

She whispers, listening more than she ever has in her life. "Yeah."

"He told me that he'd think all the fights, all the battles over who was top dog in the relationship, were worth it if he thought that his parents respected each other. So I'm not going to ask you if you love him, because you either know that you do or you don't love him at all. I'm not gonna ask if you think he loves you, because I don't even want to **hear** anything about what he thinks ever. All I'm going to ask is do you think this guy respects you and more importantly do you..._can_ you respect him? Because if you can tell me that, then I'll support you and I'd be honored, bad pun and all, to stand beside you while you marry him."

Now it's her turn to be quiet. "I do. If I thought that he did it on purpose or knowingly, I'd say no way in hell but I don't think he did." She breathes deep and continues speaking. "I know he didn't because he's not that kind of guy. He made a mistake and even if I'm marrying him for the wrong reasons, I know I can live with him and do all the things wives do for their husbands with no complaints. I don't love him but what has love ever done for anyone that understanding and tolerance can't do? I'm doing this Daria; I've **gotta **do this."

There's a deep breath on the other side of the door. "Okay. Okay. But I wanna meet this joker before the wedding and I'm not wearing pink."

She smiles honestly, always pleasantly surprised when it comes to her. "It's a deal."

"Good. Now come out here and tell me what kind of car I'm getting."


	11. Interlude Five

Legacy: An Interlude

Disclaimer: I don't own Daria, Jimmy Eat World, or the WWE

Interlude 5: Style vs. Style (Alternately Titled: It's The Greatest Makeover Of Your Life, Sandi Griffin!)

I don't feel the way I've ever felt  
I know  
I'm gonna smile and not get worried  
I try but it shows  
Anyone can make what I have built

Pain - Jimmy Eat World

August 15, 1997  
9:37 P.M EST  
Lawndale, Maryland  
The Griffin's Backyard

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.

"Like, what are you clapping for?" One of Sandi's impeccably plucked eyebrows rise for effect. Her little brothers' babysitter comes out into the backyard and walks over to where she sits on the patio furniture. Her hair's pulled back into the bandana she slipped on when she started to play something called "Renegade" with Sam and Chris earlier. Whatever the ridiculous game had been, she'd worked a miracle considering that both boys were dead to the world at the moment when they had to be threatened just to get them to go to sleep most days.

"I'm clapping for you. It's not often I see someone send someone else into a crying jag making them run off into the night. And considering Linda told me she's supposed to be one of your best friends? I've gotta applaud you because I can't run after that girl and encourage her to bust you in the mouth. I'm not off until 11:00."

Sandi sits up straight in her chair, furious at the other girl's audacity. "Where do you get off talking to me like that in my own house while you call my mother by her first name and tell me about how I talk to my friends? Who do you think you are?"

The brunette sits on the grass and stretches her legs out. "We're not in your house are we? This is your mother's house and she _encouraged_ me to call her Linda when I met her earlier this week. We worked together and I like her style and she likes mine just fine. The only reason I'm here is to return a favor. And I just think its hilarious the way you talked to that little pig-tailed girl because you need all the friends you can get right now and you don't appear to have any. Lackeys don't count and I know lackeys. And the name's Daria by the way. Nice to meet you."

She looks at the outstretched hand like it contains a rare disease. "Like I'm going to shake your hand after you talked to me like that. And that brunette girl (her name's Stacy, by the way) just ruined our first highschool party by speaking to some red-headed geek and letting him hit on her."

Her face clouds over. "Were people calling him Upchuck?"

Sandi thinks back, because like she remembers these things. "I think so."

"Well that red-headed geek, as you so succintly put it? His name's _Charles_ and the poor bastard has the social skills of a lemming so he acts likes he's god's gift to women. He hits on everyone from what I can tell and I suggest you stay away from him. A girl of your...dubious tastes would be right up his alley."

"My taste is beyond approach."

"Hmm. Last year's colors, loose hair is out, and if I'm not mistaken? The cobalt blue of your nails is on Waifs don't list in their Fall issue. Hate to break it to you sweetheart but you're unstylish."

No one in her life had ever called her style into taste and while it makes her want to storm into the house and lock the other girl out, she wants to know where she's getting her so-called information from. "How do you know any of that?" She looks down at what she's wearing; a black tanktop and blue jeans before casting a scorching look at her flip flops. "It's not like you're the pinnacle of fashion."

The smile on her face is knowing and mocking at the same time. "I'm babysitting two little hellions. And you'd be surprised how well I clean up. Man, she's gonna eat you alive come September."

She's puzzled now. "Who's she?"

The brunette throws her head back and laughs before standing up and wiping the back of her jeans off. "I'll show you. I'm guessing you have a computer in your house?"

Once they're in the den and the computer's on, Daria types in a website name and up pops a page whose prominent display is a red-headed girl looking coyly out at the screen from behind her sunglasses. "Read."

She reads. She spends a half-hour reading through the posts and becomes more and more horrified as this is where she obviously got her advanced knowledge. Quinn's Quorner (and the part of her that's not horrified, is disgusted; alliterations are so corny) is dedicated to teen-fashion and future trends. For the last 6 months this Quinn had been predicting the upcoming fashions straight out of Waif's next issues and for 6 months, she'd been right. There was a message board where people alternately praised and cursed her spoilers but they were all amazed at her guesses.

The last post was titled: Maryland Bound.

Her voice locks up and for a few seconds she can hardly breathe. "She's coming **here**?"

Daria's voice is as cold as the Sahara at night. "Unfortunately."

Sandi's suspicious. "How did you know? You don't seem like someone who follows this type of website."

Her face is frozen as she looks down from where she stands at the smiling picture of the girl on the monitor. "She's my sister and normally I wouldn't give a crap about what she did with her time but my mother sent me the link urging me to check out Quinn's..._accomplishment_."

"She's your sister!"

She finally sits, gingerly perching on the desk as she crosses her arms. "If it was my choice, I'd be an only child. I'm just giving you a head's up because I know Quinn. No one can buffalo you like she can and since your thing is fashion, you'll either have to put up with the insufferable b**** or she'll take that away from you and your little lack... I mean friends are gonna follow her. Because I mean, you're not giving them any reasons to **stay**, now are you?"

Sandi's this close to crying or flipping the computer off the desk; she can't decide which. "What do you care? She's your sister and I'm just some random person."

Her finger points at the screen. "When we were growing up, she got everything and I mean everything. I want to see the great Quinn Morgendorffer lose for once. The girl acts like she's as sweet as the day is long and you can't beat her... you **won't** beat her if the Sandi you bring to the table is the Sandi you are right now. I listened to your little meeting and even if its unpolished, the way you lead those two girls around by the nose is masterful. You're not as smart as your mom and you damn sure don't have the resources she has but only a fool would look at you and not see the child of Linda Griffin."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever seen your mother at work? Its like watching a master manipulator go to town. She's an out and out b****to most people but the way she does it... its a lot like you actually but what grown men will put up with and what teenage girls will put up with are two very different things. Your mother's the Vice President of marketing at a very well-liked television station and you're President of a pissant Fashion Club that everyone at Lawndale High will care less about. Quinn is coming and I don't know what she's going to do when she gets here but she'll burn your little club to the ground before she plays nice. The one way you can win...the **only** way is not to play her game at all."

She's intrigued. "What do you mean? I'm a fashionista and she thinks she's one. There's no way she can win. People like me and the freshmen class is going to look at me as a fashion plate."

Daria's face is amused. "Now I very well doubt that. I've been working with Linda and from what I understand you have two friends; one's as dumb as a box of rocks and the other might snap and unibomb the world because of the way you talk to her. I don't know them and I don't really know you but if you think you're gonna waltz into Lawndale High and become the toast of the fresmen class with Waif fashion as the banner you're flying, you're delusional. The only way that'd work is if Quinn joined you and you guys became a four-mand band." She points at the computer, disdain evident in every line of her body. "But I'm warning you: there's only room for one person in the spotlight in her world and that's Quinn. You'll be second fiddle and all the boys will fawn over **her** and all the girls will want to be **her**. Now I have no doubt that this will end badly for you if you act like Queen B**** of Scrunchie Mountain but I can help you...for a price."

She knew there was a reason she was talking like this. "What's the catch?"

The brunette leans forward and puts her face right into hers. She's never been this close to someone's face and the fire in the other girl's eyes is disconcerting. "I want you to crush her like a cockroach. I can't do it because I don't have the capacity or the inclination to play at her level; its not my style, so to speak. But I will make you a **god** at that school before I let her get one thing handed to her on a silver platter. If you do this and you do it right, I'll give you a $1,000 shopping spree to the store of your choice. I don't care what you do after that but I can help you make her an outcast and I'll even let you give the final blow."

She's not going to be used as some pawn without knowing why. "Why are you doing this? You can't hate her so bad that you'll let someone you don't even like destroy her before she even gets here."

She sighs and gets off the desk. "I didn't say I didn't like you; I don't know you but I can tell that the way you operate is a...peculiar way I don't think is going to work for much longer if it ever worked at all. As for everything else? Sandi, that's a story I can't really tell right now. I'm going to send you some stuff over tomorrow. You call me and let me know what you decide either way. My number's on the fridge." She's gone downstairs before Sandi herself could say anything in response.

She sits for a moment before she reads the musing parts of Quinn's Morgendorffer's site. An hour later, she doesn't notice when her mom arrives back home. An hour after that, she's awake in bed wondering what she's going to do. Her life was the Fashion club and if some ginger could come and take it all away like Daria claimed she could, what did she really have? Who was she if not the leader of the Fashion Club? The rest of the night she thinks about the things Daria said and the things Quinn wrote on her website. She doesn't sleep at all and she curses the name Morgendorffer.

In the morning there's a package on the doorstep and she has to wonder if its been there all night. When she opens it the first thing she does is read the note appropiately labeled "read me."

_Sandi - I didn't mean to scare you. You're welcome to do what you like but if you want my help, I know I can use yours. The books are something we can talk about if you so choose; let me know which way the wind blows. - Daria M._

The box is filled with back issues of a magazine labeled YLQ and on the cover of the first one she sees is a girl her age she vaguely recognizes in a flowing summer dress with a wide grin on her face and a peace sign. Other then that, the only other things are three books (How To Win Friends & Influence People, The Art Of War, and Thirty-Six Stratagems) and two tapes; a VHS and a cassette. The VHS is labeled 'play me'.

She pops it into the tape player in the living room and presses play. The first thing she sees is a black screen with the words "Copyright 1997 KSBC" on it. Then comes the front of a building that says Oakwood High and there's a guy a little older than her and a girl looking into each other eyes. The guy's wearing what she recognizes to be a Oakwood lettermen's jacket.

"You're coming with me to the Homecoming Game right?"

"I wouldn't miss it. I know you'll win it for the Taproots."

Out of nowhere comes Kevin Thompson, the newly crowned quaterback for Lawndale High. He tackles the boy to the ground while the girl looks on horrified. The camera pans to the front of Lawndale High to show Daria in blue and yellow looking gleeful.

'If you haven't heard Oakwood, we've got a new quarterback. And he can't **wait** for the Homecoming game. It's not whether you win or lose because we're gonna win. Go Lions." She makes a fist and pumps it right before the screen goes black again. Her mother comes on the screen and starts to verbally weigh the pros and cons of airing the commercial as is but she turns it off before it gets to the end.

She thinks a long time and then she listens to the casette tape. More than anything else, its what she hears on that tape that convinces her to call Daria and hear what she has to say. Before she makes the call to Daria, she reads a random chapter in one of the books and decides to make a call to someone else first.

_And I just think its hilarious the way you talked to that little pig-tailed girl because you need all the friends you can get right now and you don't appear to have any._

"Hi Mrs. Rowe. May I speak to Stacy please?" She waits until Stacy's on the phone and she does the hardest thing she's ever had to do. "I'm sorry about yesterday Stacy; it wasn't your fault that creep was hitting on you or whatever." She lets Stacy's stammers peter out. "But what was up with that red hair? Isn't red hair gross?" She lets Stacy's fervent agreements wash over her and mentally prepares for the fight of her life.

AN: If you've never heard of Thirty-Six Stratagems, suffice to say Daria just changed Sandi's life. Whether it's for better or worse remains to be seen. The other 2 books would've been enough but...just wikipedia it. Oh. The commercial is inspired by one of WWE's promos starring the wrestler Batista for some paperview I can't remember the name of.

AN 2: YLQ stands for Young Ladies Quarterly and it doesn't exist in the our world though that would be awesome. Think GQ (Gentlemen's Quaterly) but for girls ages 16 to 21. Its the polar opposite of Waif magazine.


	12. Straight Outta Highland

Legacy

Disclaimer: I don't own Daria or VV Brown

AN: This is the first time (besides my research for Interlude 3) that I invoke a calendar. While Daria and Quinn could have started in the middle of the week in the series, I think it'd be unlikely that other kids would be there as well on a random Tuesday or Wednesday. I figure that they started in the third week of September for lack of better clues. Actually, Mr. De Martino did say they just started a unit on westward expansion last week...eff it, man. It's the third week of September on a Saturday in this chapter.

Chapter 6a: Straight Outta Highland (Alternately Titled: In This Very Chapter, Descriptiveness Will Happen)

Right is right, rules are rules  
This is what I get for just winding you up  
Jack be nimble, Jack be quick  
Please don't make too much of it  
It ain't that serious

Shark In The Water - VV Brown

September 13, 1997  
2:34 P.M EST  
Lawndale, Maryland  
Random Street

"I don't know what's the matter with you lately. You act like you're not excited to see your sister at all. Sisterhood is a very important bond Quinn and I want you to try to form one with Daria the moment we arrive. This is not a suggestion."

"When's the last time you talked to Aunt Rita?"

"Rita! Don't get me started on her. All the times she gloats and rubs in my face that mother..."

Quinn looks out the window and ignores her mother's droning. She watches the landscape of her new hometown go by and thinks about the base colors of her wardrobe and how they were going to have to change now that they were on the East Coast. What worked in Texas wouldn't work in Lawndale, Maryland that was for sure. Her stomach cramps and she idly rubs it before dismissing it.

It was probably her ulcer acting up so she reaches into her Neiman Marcus Gucci purse ($1,729 on sale) and brings out her antacid tablets and idly chews one. Her mother wants her to bond with Daria when she'd rather not see her. Months had gone by with the knowledge that Daria was going to be in Lawndale when she arrived, taking away the thrill of conquering a new school and charming new people. But she's Quinn and the job of worrying was for lesser people. While Daria being alone with dad for almost two months had been worrying, she knows that mom's on her side and dad would follow. In the court of public opinion, Quinn would always win.

They pull onto their new street and though she's seen pictures, its actually better than she could have imagined. The old house had been stucco and brink was much more sophisticated. It reflected well on her family and she just hoped Daria hadn't decked it out in black and like, red bulbs or whatever. She'd have to undo all of it before she could in good conscious invite people over to her house.

Mom pulls into the driveway and turns off the car. "Quinn there's going to be some changes. I looked at the credit card bills and you've been spending too much money on clothes you rarely wear. We all need to put our best foot forward here. Daria's reluctant to be here in the first place and she's not going to take well to having to play second fiddle to you again. Your sister's…special and we need to be more sympathetic to her antisocial tendencies. She's not like you and I've learned to accept that."

Quinn rolls her eyes and faces her mother. "MOOOM! Just cause Daria's a loser doesn't mean I shouldn't be who I am. You always say that you have to put your best foot forward and just because I know how to do that and Daria doesn't shouldn't mean I have to change. Besides, I'm going to need a whole new wardrobe to fit in. My clothes from Highland will not match the scenery of Lawndale. The whole fall season was made for me to show off my best attributes and when we're finally somewhere fall exists, you try and tell me that I can't! I haven't even seen her and she's already ruining my life again. Why don't you let her go back to Buxton Ridge if that's what she wants to do? I don't know why you wanted her to come home in the first place. When was the last time you spoke to her?"

Her mother frowns as she thinks this over. "A few years ago."

"And when was the last time she wrote?"

She frowns even harder. "Even longer than that. But she sends e-mails…"

Quinn interrupts, on a roll here. "Exactly1 That's because you're paying her way, mom. Duh! Daria's here on her terms and if you let her, she'll run all over you. Daddy's a pushover and I bet she's been making him feel guilty about the whole Buxton Ridge thing. She needed to go away and I'm not sure she needs to be here now. Daria never wanted to be a part of our family and she got her wish in a big way. I'm not going to change the way I lived in Highland just because she's back. None of us should."

Her mother looks utterly exhausted when she starts to speak. "You do need to change Quinn. We all do. I've been catering to you for the last five years and I hadn't consciously realized it until I spent the last two weeks with no job and no Jake to distract me from the fact that I've become my mother. When I was a child, she favored Rita and practically ignored me and my accomplishments but she never kicked me out of the house. A woman who I can't stand and spend my whole life trying to be nothing like is better than me. She's better than me because no matter what happened, she clothed and fed us until we turned 18. Five years is a long time and I wouldn't blame Daria if the moment she hit 18, she walked out that door. I didn't….._we_ didn't give her much reason to call or write. I can't lose my daughter. I **won't** lose my daughter. If that means I have to stop spoiling you rotten, well that's something you're going to have to get used to."

Quinn thinks she shouldn't have pushed for the Gucci bag before they left Texas but there's no Neiman Marcus in Maryland and she just couldn't help herself. But even if she has to make her mom brutally see that she's the daughter she should be focusing on, she's going to get her way. "What makes you think you haven't lost her anyway?" She doesn't add 'you know me which is more than you can say for her' and she doesn't say 'are you willing to risk losing me?' because it's too melodramatic. But she makes her point as much as she can at this time so she exits the car, her mother following behind her in silence.

The moment she opens the door there's a burst of noise from the living room. "Did you just slap me? And then shoot me? This game is freaking awesome. Ooh but I got a grenade. Gonna get you, gonna get you. Aggagagagahhh!" She enters just in time to see a girl throw down a video game controller and stand up to do an enthusiastic victory dance. Her flyaway hair is all over the place as she does an extremely spastic version of the running man. The face is different and the voice sure as hell is but there's no mistaking that it's Daria.

Mom's come out from behind her. "Daria!"

She spins around, stopping her embarrassing dance. "Mom!" And then the most amazing thing happens. Daria, who never in her life as long as she could remember showed any type of affection or love, runs over to mom and grabs her in a hug. She can't hear what Daria whispers to mom but it makes her grab onto her tighter and burst into tears. Quinn would've thought it was a touching moment no matter their differences, if only Daria's eyes hadn't been focused on her from the time she became aware they were in the room. Quinn's never forgotten the last time she spoke to her sister and from the arctic gaze Daria has fixed on her, its become apparent that Daria hasn't either. She rubs her stomach and looks away.

Mom and Daria have parted and mom's looking her over as she wipes at her eyes. "Let me look at you. Your hair looks good but it's so short. Where are your glasses? Can you see anything? How many fingers am I holding up? Look at how tall you've gotten. I remember when you used to fit in the palm of my hand…."

Daria's face turned red as mom rattled on. "Mom, you're embarrassing me in front of the movers. You probably met but Derek, Chris and I were just playing video games before we started moving everything else in. We got the kitchen and dining room set up and besides the boxes, all that's left is you guys bedrooms. Why don't you let us know where you want everything and we'll start moving it in about an hour. There's takeout on the counter for you and Quinn so go relax and eat something. We'll take care of everything else."

Mom rotates her neck before nodding as she moves toward the kitchen. "Where's your father? He was supposed to meet us here."

She sits back down and picks up her controller again, the blond of the two men doing the same. "He went to the hardware store to get some paint and some screws so we can put your bed frame back together in case any of the stuff for it got lost mid-travel. He's gonna stop by the supermarket and get some food to stock the fridge. He'll be back soon."

She chimes in. "He just left you here with a couple of strange guys?"

Daria levels a look in her general direction before looking back at the screen and rapidly pressing a combination of buttons. "Hey! Derek and Chris are good people. That's more than I can say for some. Oh and Quinn? Feel free to start moving your crap in. I'm not touching anything but your bed and dresser and the only reason I'm helping is because mom and the guys have been driving for days."

She sneers, surprised Daria's practically ignoring her. "Isn't that what they're here for?"

Daria scoffs, still not looking at her. "Same old Quinn; too good to get up and do something. Sit there and do nothing then; it'll prepare you for your up and coming role of trophy wife." The brown-haired heavyset mover says something underneath his breath and she has a feeling he's recounting the tale of the tantrum she threw as they were leaving the house in Highland. Daria nods and sends a glance at her. "That sounds about right. Imagine living with her as a child." She looks right at her and Quinn berates herself for minding the way she ignored her a moment ago. "My own personal albatross around my neck."

She goes in the kitchen to see what's there to eat. She's not going to stand there and be insulted by random people. And no matter the fact that they share the same parents, Daria is a random person. She just has to treat her like that. She's not afraid of her and she's **not** sorry. She's not sorry she told Daria exactly what she thought of her and when and if she felt like it, she'd tell her again.

Her stomach hurts but she eats her food anyway.

It's later on that night and she's in the house alone. Mom went into the office to get a start on work, which was such a mom thing to do. She'd left her phone number to her new office on the fridge but said she'd be home by 9:00. Quinn wouldn't bet much on that. Her dad had come back from the hardware store just to leave after he, Daria, and the movers moved the rest of the furniture in. She doesn't know where he went; she doesn't know if _mom_ knows where he went. The independence is troubling but what was even more troubling was the casualness between dad and Daria.

It was the little things like the way they each grabbed a side of her vanity dresser and lifted at the same time without a countdown. There had just been a meeting of the eyes and a nod exchanged before they smoothly started bringing it up the stairs. And then, her mom had been b****ing at dad about something right before she left (she can't even remember what it'd been because it happened so often) and he'd looked defeated for a moment before Daria had passed by and simply touched his elbow. He'd relaxed instantly like he only ever did during a game or when he was drinking a martini. She's never had anything remotely like that with her dad and usually has to ignore the pained look he makes when she starts talking about shoes or her friends.

She spends the time exploring the house. The guest room is covered in the remnants of some crazy person's stay in a way that she hopes means she can decorate it and her parent's room is the same as it'd been in Highland. Her own room is freshly coated pink and perfect like everything else she owns. Daria's room is the one she's curious about because as far as she knows, style isn't something that the old Daria knew anything about. But she's learning quickly that the old Daria and this Daria are very different people and the key to learning how to undermine her would probably be in her room. She tries the door and when she swings it open she's struck by a sea of images.

"Oh sweet Prada."

The room was, miracle of miracles, well decorated. All of the furniture was white stained wood done in a modern style and obviously of high-end quality. There was a poster bed with navy blue curtains made out of a heavy material that matched the carpet, the curtains at the windows, and the sheets on the bed itself. Matching the bedframe was a white desk, a white office chair, and a white armoire with two drawers on it. Attached to the upper wall where the door was were four white shelves, filled to the brim with books.

But what gave the room personality were the items on every other wall besides the one with shelves. There weren't many but each one told her a little more about who she was dealing with. If she'd thought that her parents had sent Daria to the crazy house and that 'military school in Virginia' was just a cover story, the memorabilia on the walls proved her wrong. One picture was of Daria and a black boy pointing handguns at each other, the profile of them making it obvious they both had serious looks on their face. Right next to it was her and the same boy this time shaking hands all smirks in this one. The next picture was a framed black and white of Buxton Ridge's coat of arms and motto that she only recognizes because of daddy's old graduation photo she'd seen a long time ago at Grandma Ruth's house. There was a picture of Erin and Daria in formal wear (Daria in a dress?) with their arms around each others' waists smiling for the camera. Another one was of a man in a orange, white, and navy blue football uniform holding a football in one hand reared back like he was about to throw it and the other outstretched in front of him palm down; it was signed 'glad you enjoyed the game - Tiki P.S I hope I get drafted too.' The last picture was of Daria herself in full dress uniform as she held what looked like some sort of a certificate. There was a wooden sword with D.M burned into the hilt of it and right beneath that was a real sword with the date '5/20/1995' engraved in it. Orange streaks were swirled all over the white walls and ceiling; making it obvious that the three colors of the room were orange, white, and blue.

But as obvious as all of that was, what was even more obvious was the fact that the huge poster on the far wall by the windows was the focal point of the room. She doesn't know if its possible to build an invisible shrine around something but if it was, there was one around the poster of Superman. She looks closer and sees that the poster was signed too. Quinn doesn't bother reading it, instead moving to inspect the rest of the room. In the corner right next to the door was a punching bag covered in places with duck tape with long strips of a coarse white fabric draped over it and a jump-rope dumped underneath it. In the corner across from that one (on the wall where the poster was) was a red teardrop shaped small bag that hung low from the ceiling.

"Geez Daria, only you'd ruin the look of a room this nice with a bunch of random crap."

She moves to the closet and is immediately furious when she opens and sees that not only is it twice as big as hers, but there were actually good clothes inside. Since when did 'two outfit Daria' wear anything stylish? But there it was right in front of her as she digs deeper into the closet; gorgeous dress shoes, heels, and boots, jewel and earth toned blouses of varying sleeve length, sweeping formal gowns zipped in plastic protective sheaths, summer dresses of various colors; it was all colors that matched Daria's skin and hair colors spectacularly. Worse than that, they were all perfect for the fall or summer; the two seasons most notoriously hard to compliment. And even worse than that was what mingled among them.

Battered tennis shoes, University of Virginia sweatshirts (some practically threadbare with age), black and blue jeans with rips and tears, camouflage fatigues, short sleeve t-shirts with dirty sayings on them, plain short sleeve t-shirts, long sleeve t-shirts of various colors, tank-tops stacked on the closet shelves by the dozens; it was ridiculous. All of this added together meant the impossible: Daria had more clothes than her.

There were even different jackets and she nearly sees red when she feels one and discovers it's real suede. _Daria_of all people wearing suede? What was the world coming to? Black was white, up was down, and the queen of nerds knew how to dress herself. She drops down to the floor and crawls to the back looking for what else she could find. Her hand touches a shoebox and at first she thinks it's just another pair of tennis shoes but when she tosses it aside, out spills out a bunch of micro-cassette tapes. She picks one up, figuring it'd be label with the name of some geeky music, but on it written in small but legible writing are the words 'week of July 16th 1996'. She goes through them and each one starts with 'week of' and has a number on them.

She's curious what's on them so she grabs a random tape and the headphones on Daria's desk. Inside the drawers of the desk, she finds a player and sits in the chair to listen to what's on the tape. At first she hears nothing except dead noise, but then Daria's voice starts. It's rough and dry until she clears her voice and starts over.

_"2:00 A.M June 23, 1996. I can't sleep because I'm afraid I'm going to have the nightmare again. Actually, it's not a nightmare; it's a memory and I think I'm ready to face that for the first time. I see his face and as much as I want to forget it, I can't. I just can't. I wake up and everyday I..."_

She never finds out what the Daria of 1996 did everyday because the Daria of 1997 has ripped off the headphones, grabbed her by the armpits, and slammed her into the wall before she can take another breath. She's covered in sweat, literally dripping with it, and as disgusted as she is with the idea of Daria's sweat covering her dry-clean only sweater, she's more terrified by the look on her face. This isn't the calm fury of the voice on the phone what seems like ages ago; this is a look of righteous, burning anger that she's never been able to muster up in her entire life. Even her indignities are mostly a matter of degree in how loud and annoying she can make her voice sound.

Daria starts to speak through clenched teeth as she hoists her up effortlessly against the wall. "What the hell are you doing in my room?" She slams her into the wall, one of the books falling off a shelf. "Answer me."

Quinn thinks she's about to wet herself but besides the sweat beading at her hairline, she's not going to let Daria know that she's scared beyond all reason. "I was just looking around. Geez Daria, take a chill pill and let me down before I tell mom on you."

Her face gets even redder as her voice goes completely flat, uncomfortably reminiscent of the way her voice sounded as a child. "You're gonna tell mom on me? You're gonna tell mom on me! I find you rifling through my things, listening to my personal recordings and you honestly think I give a damn about what you tell mom?" She's dropped down to her feet and Daria's hands are pressing into either side of her head, ruthlessly squeezing. Daria's voice takes on a light, wistful tone and it's somewhere faraway as she writhes in pain between her sister's hands. "I could snap your neck right here. Do you have any idea how easy it'd be? Just one little twist and I put you out of your little fashion obsessed misery for good. Would you like that? All of the teenage angst, all the drama of finding the perfect outfit, the excruciating monotony of getting every thing you ever wanted handed to you while you sit there and smile like the dim bulb you know you are deep down inside." Her eyes are lit with an unholy fervor as she leans her forehead against hers, voice pleading as it breaks. "Come on Quinn. It can all end now and all you have to do is say yes. Please say yes. The one and only gift you can give me that'd mean more to me than anything else in the world is the permission to end your pathetic, pepto bismol colored life. Just say yes and in 2.5 seconds, I'll be the happiest person on the face of the earth." She barely pauses before starting to speak again. "Too overcome with emotion? I'll just take that as a silent affirmation." The squeezing lets up as her hands move to grab her head in a firmer grip. "Here we go Quinn. Get ready to meet your maker and don't forget to thank him for the bouncy hair. 5,4,3,2..."

She starts screaming as she pisses herself. "NO NO DON'T. PLEASE DON'T DO IT. I'LL DO ANYTHING. PLEASE!"

Daria drops her to the floor, making sure she lands right in her piss, and starts laughing. "You've got to be the stupidest son-of-a-b**** on the planet. You think I'm going to spend the rest of my life in jail for killing _you_? I crap more important things on a daily basis. There's some 409 in the bathroom and some rags under the sink; clean that piss up and then get the f*** out of my room. I'll be putting a sturdy lock on my door as soon as I get the chance." She flops down on her bed and keeps laughing. "God if I had the guts. If I only had the guts."

She gets the hell out of there to go change before she comes back to clean up her mess. But no matter how she tried to make it seem like a joke, there was something like a switch flipping in Daria's eyes right before she counted down to one. For lack of a better explanation she'll forever think it was clarity returning and if she lives to be a hundred years old, Quinn'll never believe that she wouldn't have snapped her neck if that internal moment hadn't happened. After she cleans herself up, she promises she's gonna do her damndest to never step foot in that room again regardless of how big the closet is.

AN2: From this point onward, any description of the house and it's features will be based off of Stephen Galloway's layout of the Morgendorffer's home. This awesome bit of work can be found at /art_morgendorffer_ Also, if you hadn't noticed: Daria's room is Quinn's from canon, Quinn's is the guest room from canon, and the guest room is Daria's room from canon.

AN3: Daria and the movers were playing Goldeneye on the N64


	13. It's Family Time, It's Family Time

Legacy

Disclaimer: I don't own Daria or VV Brown

Chapter 6b: It's Family Time, It's Family Time (Alternately Titled: The First Supper)

High in the sky, the song that I'm singing A sweet little lie, I cry wolf cry Rabbit out the hat, so that's why I'm bringing Some tricks up my sleeve, for noticing me

Shark In The Water - VV Brown

September 14, 1997 5:38 P.M EST Lawndale, Maryland Morgendorffer Kitchen

"So what do you think kiddo; did I overreact? Cut these up for me, yeah."

"No you didn't overreact. You told them specifically what you wanted down to the last detail and they didn't do it right. Who cares sbout their 'vision'? You're trying to run a business and you have to look like it or you won't get people willing to use you to consult for them. I mean, who's gonna hire you if your office looks like a penitentiary? How many of these do I have to chop up?"

Dad consults the cookbook. "Three should be fine."

They'd been going at it like this since her and mom had gotten home from the mall. Mom had stuck to her word on Quinn's spending limit until she saw a stack of power suits that she wanted her to try on. Quinn would never in her life wear a power suit, but she had used that to make her mom buy her other things she wanted. Even though there'd be no more Gucci bags in her future, she's satisfied with the purchases she made.

They'd entered the kitchen only to see Daria and her dad cooking up a storm. Flour had been smeared on Daria's face and some on the floor and some on dad. In her mind's eye she can see them throwing a handful of flour at each other but checking themselves from letting it get out of hand because the two of them would be coming back. And she's probably right because when they'd come in the kitchen, dad had started swiping at his shirt and Daria had went into the laundry room and got the broom to sweep it up.

Her mom pipes up from where she's sitting at the table. "Jake what are you talking about?"

"Nothing important. When I got the office situated, I paid a local artist to do a mural on the wall. It was a really cool painting but not something I could have used for a business, so I snapped some photos off and told him I'd make some recommendations. Then I call up a company to come down from Baltimore and paint over it but they did it in this bland grey that maked the place look like a prison cell when I specifically told them I wanted beige or burnt sienna. So I told them what they could do with themselves and I blackballed them a little. Daria brought a couple of rugrats in to paint it right while she supervised."

Daria shrugs and keeps chopping. "Those little punks destroyed my Scrabble game, but then again I guess that's what I get for trying to teach literacy to the nation's youth."

Quinn's ecstatic. "You know what color burnt sienna is. Oh, daddy; you finally listened to me."

Dad looks uncomfortable for a moment. "Actually Quinn, I let your sister pick the colors for the office and that's what she chose."

Quinn's comforted enough by the fact that Daria hasn't said a word to her (or even looked at her) since yesterday night; enough so to speak up, offended to her core. "You let Daria pick the colors for your office dad? Really? Let me guess; bland and blander are the themes of the room. "

Daria speaks from where she's peeking in a pot on the stove. "It's an office Quinn. Of course it's going to be a little bland; anything too bold could turn off perspective clients. And for your information, Little Miss Couture, I just got a 96 box of crayons and picked a couple of neutrals and a red. I don't know why you think being able to keep people from clawing their eyes out means you're an interior decorator Quinn. It's honestly not that difficult."

Mom retorts. "Jake when are you going to learn? You can't get untested sensibilities to style things for you. I'll make a few calls and see what I can do to fix it." She frowns as she realized what she said. "No offense Daria."

Daria snorts. "When people say that, it's usually because they said something offensive. It's just paint mom. I gave the little twerps instructions and they did exactly what I told them to. Add in the furniture dad picked out and some little knicknacks I got at Sharper Image and its all good. I mean have you seen my room; I'm not flying blind here. Besides; dad likes it which is the most important thing." And she turns to dad just to get confirmation. "Right dad?"

He reaches over and tousles her hair all over her head, grinning when it makes Daria stop stirring what's on the stove and smooth it back into place as she scowls. "She did a good job Helen."

Mom's frowning openly. "Speaking of your room, where did you get all of that furniture from? I bought a bed for you on the moving van and come to find out you have furniture here already."

She adds the bellpeppers to the pot and stirs vigirously. "Grandma Evelyn bought it for me to match my room at Barksadale Castle and sent some guys over a couple of weeks ago to rip up the old carpet and put in the blue. I wasn't crazy about the white at first but it's really classy. Plus, it matches UVa with the orange on the wall which is a huge plus."

Mom's face is a rictus of fury. "Mom bought it for you? Why the hell would you take anything from her? You haven't seen her since you were a child! She doesn't even bother asking about you when she calls."

Daria's turned toward the table with an incredulous look on her face. "She doesn't need to ask about me; we lived only 2 counties away from each other for the last five years and I've been staying at her house for break since I got to Buxton. Don't you remember the permission slip I faxed to your office? Why do you think I needed it?"

Mom's face has turned red. "I...I vaguely remember signing something."

Daria waves her hand. "Well there you go. She's been nothing but good to me and even got the tuition you guys paid reinbursed so I could have some spending money while I was at The Ridge."

Mom's face is even redder as she starts yelling. "She gave you all of the money we've been spending on your hideously exspensive tuition! I want it ALL back Daria and I want it back now!"

Quinn's a little scared at the look on her mom's face. The fact that dad doesn't look surprised is something she hopes escapes her mom's notice for like, forever. She keeps her mouth shut despite the fact that Daria apparently screwed her parents out of thousands of dollars when she gets blasted for buying one little purse that only cost a $1,000 and some change. Daria's nonchalance in the face of her mother's fury is almost impressive despite the protests she wants to make in defense of her own spending sprees. "Can't do that. Grandma Evelyn put most of it in a bunch of CD's that I can't touch until I turn 18 and the rest was spent on my operation and the medical bills. What's the big deal anyway? I got a great education and I didn't spend the time there broke and desparate; it's a win-win situation I think."

Mom's wind has gone out of her sails, even though she's still visibly angry. "Your operation? What operation?"

Daria brings the pot of food over and starts scooping spaghetti onto the plates set on the table. "Haven't you noticed I'm not wearing glasses? I don't know what you thought happened but my vision didn't miraculously correct itself though that would've been pretty awesome. With that and the nose job, I don't think there's very much left to give you anyway."

Quinn stands up, triumphant. "I knew it! I told mom that you got one but she's all like 'your sister just grew into her face Quinn'. GAWD Daria. With your nose job and those formal gowns its like you're trying to be me or something." She tosses her hair and scoffs. "As if."

Daria giggles loudly into the silence as she sprinkles parmesan cheese onto her spaghetti. "Me want to be you? Quinn there's nothing I want less in the world and that I can guaran-damn-tee. Those formal gowns are for functions Grandma Evelyn insisted I go to and though they look very good on me, they were simply worn as a token of appreciation for all she's done for me. The nose and cheek restructuring had to be done because I got tossed off a horse and my whole face sustained signifigant damage. My face looked fine the way it was and thanks to the good people at UCLA Medical Center, it looks even better." Her face goes blank before she gives a parody of a smirk. "Simply one of life's little... quirks how it all turned out I guess."

Her dad speaks up from where he standing by the stove, face pale. "Why didn't you call us Daria? You could've died from the accident or the surgery and we would've never known! When did this happen?"

Daria squints as she thinks. "Spring of '95. And for why I didn't call you..." She makes the connection of the timing and she feels the blood leaves her face because she might as well have given Daria nails and a hammer to pin her to the wall. Her eyes meet Quinn's and for one long moment they're sending messages to each other. Just like when they were kids, she tries to make a deal. Her eyes are saying 'don't tell them or I'll let them know you tried to kill me' and Daria's eyes are unreadable except for the singular message 'I'll do what I want and I don't give a damn what you say because I'm golden; it doesn't matter what I do because I'm golden because of them and you' which she understands from the arrogant tilt to Daria's chin.

There's a second where she thinks Daria's going to rat on her just for funsies but she continues with a lie. "Grandma Evelyn had me covered. You couldn't have done anything and it was along time ago besides. What's done is done and I for one am sick of talking about it."

Mom brushes her off. "We'll talk about it for however long I think we should talk about it. So let me see if I can get this straight: not only have you been spending summers at my mother's home without telling me but apparently, the both of you have gotten together and got a refund of your tuition for what I have to assume was the hell of it, considering mother has more money than King Midas. After a life-threatening accident, you couldn't be bothered to let your family know what happened and flew off to Los Angeles to get a surgery that could've had servere reprecussions and included one you didn't even need. Now you're sitting here and telling me that you won't give me the money I spent on your education because you put it in the bank and used it as mad money when all you had to do was ask and I would've sent you money but you didn't because your grandmother had you COVERED!" She visibly gets herself back under control. "Am I right about all of that? Am I right about the fact that you've shown no respect or consideration for this family while you were away?"

Daria takes a sip of lemonade and wipes her mouth. "Pretty much. Granted, you signed a form that specifically told you where I'd be spending my breaks but I guess it's my fault you couldn't be bothered to read it and find out where I'd be. I mean, except for the fact that Grandma Evelyn and Grandma Ruth have been more like parents to me in the last five years than you guys have been in... well, ever. Let's see what else you've got kind of right but not really; Erin's practically my sister as far as I'm concerned when she" Daria points at her with her fork "wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire so Quinn definitely wasn't on the top of my list to call. That unneeded surgery was for s***s and giggles except for the fact that it helped me do better at Buxton Ridge in the long run. And while Grandma Barksdale is really rich, why should she spend money on something that I could use yours for after I qualified for a scholarship she funded in the first place?" She stands up and ticks off her fingers on one hand as she holds her empty plate with the other. "UCLA has one of the best plastic surgeons in the country, any surgery has reprecussions so you could've had my body shipped to Texas if I had died, and I wasn't going to ask you for a damn thing when you couldn't even bother to come see me after 3 years in Virginia. Could I have done it better? Yes. Was Grandma Evelyn deciding, without input from me I might add, to give me that money underhanded and sneaky? Yes. Do I regret any of it besides the agonizing weeks I spent in pain and in recovery? No. Let me know if you want to keep talking about it because I could go on for days."

The room's silent and her fear of Daria is gone because this is classic Daria. She'd talk and talk and everyone would just forget that she's a freak because she can make anything sound like she's giving the Guinnessberg's Address or whatever. "Damn Daria. You became an even bigger b**** than before."

Dad looks at her and his face is stern, even though the lines in his face seem deeper than ever. "Quinn..."

Daria's at the sink with her plate facing away from them. "No she's right. I am. One day I realized that I couldn't be the person I used to be. Life has a way of burying the weak so I stopped being the me that would sit there and take it up the a** just because getting away from the d***s drilling into me took too much time and effort."

Mom's out of her seat and she's never seen her mom in the courtroom but this is what she imagines she'd look like. "Watch your mouth. Both of you."

Daria's turned back around. "I can do that but I need to say something because I don't know who you think I am but you might be mistaken so I want to take this chance to clear the air. I'm not going to pretend that the things that changed me didn't and I'm not going to pretend that the last five years never happened. Mom, I could honestly care less if you're pissed about the money and I don't care what you make of anything I'm saying because I'm gonna say it anyway. You want to talk respect and you want to talk consideration then we can and I could say some things about how I feel on the subject if I wouldn't just be beating a dead horse for the hundreth time. You can forget about me feeling bad about taking anything I can get with a smile on my face and a song in my heart because I learned to look out for number one while I was away. If you guys decide to ship me off again, I only have myself to turn to in the long run. As much as Grandma Evelyn's done for me, I know that one day it could all dry up and turn to dust if I don't play her game just enough to make her happy. I don't have a problem with that because if there's one thing I took away from my time at Buxton Ridge is that I have to be an island. People can come and people can go but at the end of the day there's just me rooting for me and what I want. You guys want me here? Fine; glad to have the chance to reach a new never before seen level of understanding. But allow me to reintroduce myself." She holds her hands wide open, gesturing to the clothes and the face and the attitude that's so different from what any of them remember. "Daria version 2.0 at your sevice."

Dad's face is pained. "I thought that we were getting along great kiddo."

She shrugs even as her face softens. "Yeah we are. And you wanna know why? I finally took the chance to get to know you. All of your quirks and the parts of you I don't understand are something I can embrace because I love you. I love the fact that we can sit and watch a football game in companionable silence and I love the way we can just hang out and be. It's like discovering uncharted territory and all of the amazement that comes with finding it is still there. But I've gotta be me because I can't be anything else. Not for any of you. I want you to know that I felt hurt for a long time over being sent to Buxton Ridge even as I kicked butt there. I want you to know that I'm waiting for you to decide I'm not worth the trouble and send me packing. I even want you to know that I can't look at any of you without feeling tired because it's like running up a hill trying to figure out how I'm going to live with you people again. For better or worse, I am who I am and I always have been. This time though, I'm not keeping my mouth shut about it."

Mom's face is firm. "I'm not paying a cent for your college Daria and you need to think long and hard about how you expect the rest of your time in this house to go. You're not going to run this family and I'm not going to cater to you because you feel like we abandoned you. That's who I am for better or for worse as you so succintly put it."

Daria bows sharply at mom, a small bitter smile on her face. "Great to be home." She leaves out of the kitchen and the house without another word. Dad rises from the table and makes to leave.

Mom's voice is sharp. "And where are you going?"

Dad doesn't pause in scraping his food into the garbage disposal. "I don't know what it was you just heard Helen but I heard my daughter say she loved me. That's enough for me to make sure she doesn't run off into the night. Damn the money and damn this whole conversation." He drops his plate into the sink and is out the door after Daria without another second's hesitation.

Her mom leaves and goes up the stairs, muttering as she goes. "Mother had to go and turn her against me. If she thinks that I'm going to take this lying down, she's got another thing coming." Her steps fade and Quinn's alone at the table with a plate full of spaghetti and a heart full of hatred.

She whispers to herself. "I knew it. I just knew it." And it doesn't really concern her that as much as her mom missed the point, as much as her dad's gotten it, and as much as Daria will never forget it, that she's even more worried about the fact that the last 20 minutes had nothing to do with her at all.


	14. Wake Me Up When September Ends

Legacy

Disclaimer: I don't own Daria or V.V Brown's Shark In The Water

AN: (In my best Nickelback voice) It's been a while! Huh...on second thought, that might be Staind or Creed. (Looks at what I wrote and quietly freaks out because I'm actually something of a Nickelback fan) Anywho, if you've been waiting I'm sorry about the Eminem style hiatus.

Err...Warnings: AU!Quinn being...well, AU!Quinn.

and also maybe just a little half-panned out, half-baked fashion coordinating theories deduced while under the influence of coffee!whiskey and sleep deprivation. Or is that whiskey!coffee? Whichever shows the rediculous whiskey to coffee ratio of beverages I had (and am still having) while I write this works best I suppose

Chapter 6c: Wake Me Up When September Ends (Alternately Titled: A Salute To Those That Tried To Invade Russia During General Winter)

Right is right Rules are rules This is more like April Fools I'm just winding you up, oh

Shark In The Water - V.V Brown

September 15, 1997 1:19 P.M E.S.T Lawndale High: 1st Floor Women's Restroom Lawndale, Maryland

When it's all said and done, Quinn will stand there and realise she's been Keyser Sozed.

Of course she won't know what the term is. In another universe, Quinn wouldn't even know who Kevin Spacey is until she saw Pay It Forward because Stacy has a crush on that Haley Joel Osment kid. But man; when Kint walked off and his hand uncurled and his stride became Keyser f***ing Soze bold you knew you'd been had. Not only had you been had but the masses watching had been had. It's not a good feeling especially if you're the guy who's been spun a story so good that you honestly couldn't be blamed for buying it hook, line, and sinker.

Daria's face is cool and triumphant when she barely looks over her shoulder at her, the face of the politician, the face of the reigning Queen of Lawndale High, the face of the winner firmly in place. "Oh and Quinn? Don't you ever talk to me like you've lost your mind again." And then she's leaving with Sandi and Stacy at her shoulders, all three unconcerned with her continued existence. Quinn's mind is racing as she plays the whole day over in her head. And when she's faced with the realisation that she pretty much dug her own grave with her actions today, she can't stop the angry tears from coming. Daria barely had to lift a finger and everything had still gone so wrong after such a great start.

Ten minutes later, she's still crying when a slightly overweight goth girl comes in. She gets eyed curiously for her trouble before the purple-clad fashion disaster firmly closes the bathroom stall behind her. Soon the smell of marijuana (she only knows because the school counselor had been fired for smoking behind the building and that's the smell she never smelled again after Mr. Mackey left) fills the room and it barely penetrates her psuedo-catatonic state. She's finally gotten the strength to wash her face and fix her makeup when the girl exits the stall in a cloud of smoke.

She's straightening her mini-make-up pouch, fixing the cuffs of her jeans. Anything really to avoid meeting the gaze of the girl next to her. As she remembers her comments about the girl's loser status earlier today, she can barely swallow the lump in her throat that rises when she realises that she's a much of a loser as the girl that's still watching her curiously; maybe even moreso considering...considering. She almost starts crying again when she realises that outcast won't be fit enough of a word for what she'll be by the last bell today once word got around well enough.

"Hey."

She looks at the girl next to her and practically hisses. "What?"

The girl's formerly curious face transforms into a scowl making her face look vaguely demonic considering the heavy makeup and the bloodshot eyes. "I was going to tell you to watch yourself around Barksdale and her lackies from now on but sink or swim b***h." With that, the girl tries to storm off but ends up basically waddling really fast and lets the door slam ineffectively behind her. Quinn snorts as she ponders herself in the mirror; yeah great advice goth chick. Too late considering she could've used it years ago.

Quinn laughs, almost amused. "Watch myself around Daria? Minestrone himself would have to watch himself around... Daria." Her head whips up so fast and it doesn't matter how much her neck hurts because she can get a massage later. The goth girl hadn't said Daria. She hadn't said 'the girl with the hooker boots' or 'the preppie girl' like a goth chick might've said. She hadn't even said Morgendorffer. No, what she had said was...Barksdale. She had called Daria 'Barksdale'.

Every thought, every action anyone's displayed today runs through her mind and its almost like watching one of those magic digital 3d photos come into focus. You're looking hard and yeah, at first its just a patch of carrots. So you look and you look because everyone else is in on the magic and you like magic too. It doesn't work so you keep coming back and coming back. Your eyes hurt from crossing them and quite honestly you just want to go look at a normal g***amn photograpgh but you have to see it through because now? It's personal. So you look and you look and there he is in all of his top hat wearing rascally glory. Bugs Bunny; the man himself. And then you can't not see it.

She meets her wide eyes in the mirror. "That b***h. She planned all of this. Every single piece of it." And knowing you've been played only means you get to figure out exactly how long that man behind the curtain's been making you look like a fool. It doesn't help persay but on the brightside? You can finally see where the strings were being pulled.

And then all you have left is the fun task of wondering how you missed it all in the first place.

September 15, 1997 6:36 A.M E.S.T The Morgendorffer Kitchen Lawndale, Maryland

Quinn practically bounces down the stairs, her new baby pink t-shirt and the matching New Balances matching perfectly with her slightly faded jeans and matching jean jacket. After the horrific dinner last night, she had gone up to her room and unpacked her beauty supplies for her morning regimen. An hour and a half earlier this morning, she had put together the careful moisturizing and make-up process that should sustain her through the Maryland fall. Once she had the system perfected she could get it down to 20 minutes tops, barring tweezing and the like. Her day's going beautifully and then she enters the kitchen to Daria's sullen face.

Now Quinn knows Daria didn't come home last night. Unless she learned telekinesis and had materialized straight into her room, Daria hadn't slept in her bed last night. If her father had been absent the whole night too, she would've just thought that he had been off talking Daria off a ledge or whatever. But her parent's argument had woken her up late last night and still no Daria when she had cautiously walked past and seen that the way she had rubbed the carpet in front of her door was still the same. Coming into the kitchen and seeing Daria there had almost ruined her day but she figures that this is the only time to talk to Daria about school.

See the thing about Daria is that she's a mercury. If you give her something she wants (alot of somethings she wants) she got lazy and docile. Through her entire beauty regimen and orange peel bath, Quinn had thought about what she could offer Daria to make her stay far away from her at school and also deny any relation to Quinn herself in the process. But when it hit her that Daria would probably make it known she was her sister if she brought it up just as a way to annoy her, she decided that her best bet was to assess the situation first and then act accordingly. Because even though Daria's changed (into a psycopath which considering Grandpa Morgendorffer and dad both went to Buxton too? yeah so not surprised) she hasn't.

Quinn Morgedorffer still owned the hearts of all the boys and the envy of all of the girls of any school she stepped into. Within a week (and that is an underestimation), she'd have the number of every boy worth having take her out to dinner packed in her vanity drawer. She'd let each hopeful know that she expected top-knotch treatment; treatment that a girl of her looks and dress sense deserved. Daria dressed up like a Barbie doll by Grandma Barksdale was still Daria. Even if Daria tried to ruin this for her, what could she do anyway? Daria was a brain. So when she steps into the kitchen ready for whatever Daria could do, she isn't prepared for the sight of Daria in a shoddy school uniform.

And for the life of her, Quinn doesn't know how a school uniform could be shoddy but she just recognizes it. The shirt is...all wrong. Instead of a nice blend of lightweight fabrics, the shirt peeking out from under the (polyester) royal blue blazer is some overly thick, overly starched material. The skirt that Daria's wearing is the most unflattering cut a skirt can have and still be called a skirt. It hung in a wrinkly, misshapen manner about halfway down her shins. To top off the whole atrocious outfit, Daria looks like a raccoon mixed with hobo.

Her shouder length hair sits dull and limp on her neck and forehead. The bounciness she had imagined yesterday and Saturday must have been bad lighting. In the weak morning sunlight that streams through the glass patio door, she can see that what's on top of Daria's head can barely be called hair. Her eyes look dull and creased, unhelped by the bruising purple circles around her eyes. Her eyes are bloodshot and her skin is white and almost chalky looking. In natural light it looks like Daria hadn't ever wore anything Chanel. Ever.

She can't help but wrinkle her nose, offended to the depths of her fashion conscious soul. "Like, eww. What are you wearing Daria? And (bold)please(bold) tell me I won't be given one just like it when I get to Lawndale."

Daria looks at her like she's the one wearing polyester. "Lawndale's a public school Quinn. This is Felding Prep's uniform. It's where I'm going. You know? Smart people and like whatever." Daria takes a look at her hideous Scooby Doo plastic watch and wipes the traces of syrup from her mouth onto her sleeve (ONTO HER SLEEVE!) before cursing and grabbing a bright orange (clashing) backpack on her way out the front door. Quinn's so stunned that she almost forgets to check her shoes as she's leaving the kitchen. And its so perfect that she can barely wait for Daria to leave so she can enjoy a good,long laugh at her rediculous sister's expense. And when the door closes, Quinn doesn't even care that Daria could probably still hear her from outside.

"MARY JANES?" And the laughter is coming from her mouth because its funny, but also because a fist that's been clenching in her stomach has loosened its strangle-hold on her intestines. She had actually thought Daria would be a threat. Daria of all people! Of course all of those nice clothes were probably things Grandma Barksdale had made Daria wear. Who cares why Daria was going to Felding Prep and not Lawndale High like Quinn had thought? Maybe the litle psycho freak had gotten kicked out already. Whatever the case, it just means things'll be just like her life had been in Texas: Daria free school and (as soon as her date schedule got up and running) a mostly Daria free home-life.

When Dad comes into the kitchen, ready to take her to school, she tells him she's laughing because she's happy to be starting school somewhere new and her smile's actually genuine for the first time in 48 hours.

September 15, 1997 7:00 A.M E.S.T Lawndale High Lawndale, Maryland

When her dad drives up, she's immediately confused.

There are cute boys milling around but even the ones that look over at her and give her an interested glance don't come up to her, already huddled in clumps among themselves. Dad's already driven off and she kind of wishes he hadn't so she can make her exit from the car more Brittany Spearsesque. But then again, he had been talking about his golf trip until he finally got the hint after she turned up the radio the for like, the fifth time. It's like god dad; yack yack yack, corporate account. Blah Blah Blah, a possible Christmas vacation in some boring place called Fiji. She didn't want to say who cares but really, who cares right?

What she's more worried about is how she's going to look like a loser if someone doesn't walk up to her in the next minute and a half. It was so uncool to go up to people and introduce yourself when you were new at a school and if you did, you kind of missed the point of being popular which was the Welcoming Committe. If you were actually suposed to go up to people and introduce yourself instead of seeing how many people wanted to talk to you because of how cute you were, it would be called the Introducing Yourself Like An Ugly Girl Committee.

"Hey what's your name? You look cool."

"Relax Stacy. We wouldn't want to frighten the new student. I mean after all, she looks new enough already."

Quinn stops her gaze on two girls she didn't even notice approach her which makes her mad because she had been so desperately eyeing the boys hoping they'd come over, that she'd forgot about the girls in the vicinity. Rookie mistake Quinn: insinuate, then divide and conquer. The first one that spoke was a brunette (actually a brunette with red lowlights) decked out in a frankly bewildering fashion. Quinn had studied the fashion trends on the east coast before coming to Maryland and nothing had led her to expect this from girls in Lawndale.

The tall, leggy brunette was wearing the thinnest of white long sleeve shirts, periodically catching a shine from the sunlight. It must be some kind of spandex material because it was practically clinging to the girl's arms and shoulders. The only thing that saved the shirt from being trashy was the vest over it made up of some kind of bold purple colored stiff material. Topping it off were a pair of black capri pants and a white pair of somewhat flimsy looking sandals. Not flimsy but somehow on the safe side of delicate, barely straddling the line. Her makeup was a simple dusting of pale shimmering lipgloss and the barest hint of pale lilac eyeshadow. It was barely there, but it was there. A pair of hoop earrings and one single white gold bracelet finish off the outfit. Hoops are out but admittedly she's never seen hoop earrings like these. Each one's engraved with small barely there writings that flash cobalt blue from under loose wisps of Stacy's upswept hair.

The other brunette (and she's a pure brunette) is wearing something that shouldn't work but obviously does in some infuriating way the girl's pulling off somehow. She's wearing a periwinkle, floaty almost Cinderalla style ballerina skirt that goes almost seamless into a seafoam green poet/peasant blouse that has yellow embroidery. The whole things eye catching and vaguely off-putting and when she catches a glimpse of her shoes (pumps, yellow pumps) and notes the almost cotton candy pink of her lipgloss she almost throws up.

This doesn't work. Not it shouldn't work, not maybe in the right light; this absolutely does not work. She cannot believe what she's seeing. It's FALL in MARYLAND, ok? Browns, forest greens, a splash of blue, and maybe a whore red lipstick for the bitchy, gravelly voiced one. These are your bases, that's what you should stick to. It wasn't rocket science. The rocket science of fashion was what she did. Being a redhead and pulling off a pink shirt should not work, ok? But since she knows basic color scheme, she uses the silver that threads its way through her New Balances and the slight dusting of gold shimmer swirled around her bare belly and her throat as a way to offset the shock. This wasn't what these girls were doing; they were just trying to be shocking period.

The slow smile that's spreading across her face is smug and right before she's about to tell these losers to get lost, the girl that's not Stacy sweeps her hand through the bangs of her hair (her bone straight hair) out of her face and the motion draws Quinn's attention (and half the people on the quad's) to the ring on the ring finger of the girl. It's an elements ring. Honestly she doesn't know what it is, but calling it an element ring was the best way to describe it. There were four colors segregated by two glowing white lines. One was deep blue, the second deep green, the third a deep red, and the fourth a mustard brown. As soon as her eye hits the ring, it drags her vision to the girl's outfit which draws her line of sight right to Stacy's outfit.

Quinn almost steps back in pure, genuine fright. Dear Lord; they were a fashion tag team. The idea behind it...she suddenly wants to be far away from these girls. The basic idea behind the idea of a matching team had started with the idea of bridesmaids. Beautiful and simple in its ingenuity: three or more women wearing the same dress in an ascending/desending line formation while another woman stood slightly off to the center in a completely different, more elaborate dress. Maybe the groom could wear a different cummberbund from his groomsmen for the same...that's not the point.

The point was, the idea of a fashion tag team with only two people was thought to be impossible. First even in girls with such similar colorings as these two agreed to such a thing, they would be very limited in what they could wear. Things that would compliment each other naturally came from the opposite sides of the color wheel and would fail by breaking the similar coloring principle that was always assumed to be needed for such a thing to work. But even someone as fashion-advanced as Quinn herself hadn't taken in the effect personalities would have on the idea.

Stacy seemed sweet, nervous; easily molded and a follower basically. She was the barnacle that hung onto people like the person the other girl seemed to be; bold, brash. With the way she had leveled the insult she gave as a greeting that wasn't quite an insult, Quinn could tell that this girl would be the one to watch for despite the almost gentle motion she had used to swipe her hair away. Stacy dressed bold even though she was a mouse personality wise and the other girl adopted a series of colors that she used to offset her strong personality. But at the heart of it, even dressed in the manner of the velvet glove the unnamed girl was able to draw attention in like an iron fist.

She wants in; no she needs in if boys at this school are as standoffish as they appear. So Quinn grits her teeth before smiling huge, ready and willing to do the impossible and use these girls as a fashion trio with her at the center. "My name's Quinn. You guys seem cool too." She looks at Stacy and tilts her head far enough to look like she's really interested in what she has to say, ready to get the softer girl on her side. Wait for it.

"I like your shirt. That's really neat! Where'd you get it?"

Hook

"Well... so I used to shop at Cashman's...

Line...and wait for it.

"What I think Stacy's trying to say Kuh-winn while Stacy's and I taste has matured over the summer as we made our way from middle school into a more adult environment, its obvious that some people have refused to make the same transition. Don't you think its a shame when people to their childhood like they're afraid of change, Kuh-winn?" The girl's not even looking at her as she says it. She's actually looking at a blond boy, hair half-obscuring her face becomingly. The decent looking guy actually blushes and doesn't spare either her or that Stacy girl a glance. And the worst of it is, she knows for sure now that can't insult the girl obviously. She has the power and she has nothing.

Yet.

"I totally agree...what's your name?"

She sends another puff of hair flying away from her face with a mini toss of her head. Quinn watches enviously; the mini toss was a thing to behold when used right. "Well...even though its quite ill-mannered of you to not have had the decency to ask in the first place, I suppose I can do the honor of introducing Stacy and myself. My name is Sandra Griffin and this is my best friend, Stacy Rowe."

And with the way Stacy looked proud at the mention, Quinn uneasily eyes the glint of challenge in Sandra's eyes and does her best to send 'bring it, b***h' vibes out into the universe. She grips Sandra's hand in her, surprised when she doesn't react to the way Quinn squeezes visibly one way or another. "My name's Quinn Morgendorffer."

September 15, 1997 12:15 P.M E.S.T Lawndale High: Cafeteria Lawndale, Maryland

As she sits at lunch, Quinn finally thinks to herself that this'll work out just fine.

Apparently Sandra 'call me Sandi' Griffin was acting so crabby not because she knew Quinn was coming for whoever had the number one spot but because of the Spirit Week that's overtaken Lawndale High. As 1 of 3 coordinators of Spirit Week (especially considering its only been in the planning stages since the middle of last week) Sandi's spread thin. But it seems to be in an appealing way because her tired sighs of faux sternness drag every boy in a 2 mile radius to help her with whatever decorations she's "valiantly" struggling with.

Its almost enough to make Quinn sick but in addition to not having class for the week, Quinn doesn't have to do her orientation until the next week. According to Stacy, this includes a copy of her dental records being taken and for some odd reason, a blood and...well, she had to give some samples okay? And thank God that was postponed for now. Everyone had went to homeroom and started chattting excitedly about Spirit Week being kicked off with a mandatory pep rally after lunch and until then it was all review in classes.

When everyone starts pulling out their blue and gold Lawndale High sweaters and she's bereft, she doesn't need Sandi's patently false exclamations of ("Gee Kuh-winn I guess you'll just have to wait until we get another shipment. But it's not too bad. I meant it's not like our school colors go with your...tennis shoes.) pity to feel better. Roaming the halls as the only one not wearing blue and gold gives her a jumping off point. For some reason, everyone's concentrating on the decorations and cleaning the school when she tries to talk to them.

But she gets her story in enough ears. She's Quinn and if some guy asks if its just Quinn, she bats her eyes and says "yeah; just like Madonna." Sometimes she'll tell one they have to call her if they want to find out more. She gets why all the boys are so standoffish. Some of the girls have been whispering that red hair's gross and she almost thinks that its started circulating as a response to her making the rounds but then she meets Upchuck and she just has to flirt a little more heavier. Her mom's a lawyer (Yeah she was almost on O.J's legal defense but they wouldn't offer her enough money. Way tragic) and her dad's a personal consultant for (super like Bon Jovi status) famous people. She lives in the cutest little brick house and she is 100% absoulutely, without a doubt an only child.

When she asks why so many people look at her funny when she says that, Sandi just shrugs and tells her its because nearly everyone in Lawndale had siblings. So whatever. Maybe if Daria wasn't some psychopathic freak, she'd clean her up and trot her out but she was and Quinn just guesses Erin will have to work as someone who's 'just like a sister' to her. She's so busy eating and laughing and having a good time with some of the junior preppy boys (not football players but close enough) that she doesn't notice more and more of the lowerclassmen watching her with less than ethralled looks on their faces. By the time lunch is over, there's a noise that sounds like angry bees humming throughout the cafeteria.

She pays it no mind because Greg (George, Gerry whatever his name was; he had a Camaro!) offers her his arm right after busting their trays for the both of them. Quinn's telling Harold what scarf he should buy her to compliment the necklace Jimmy had promised to put a down payment on. By the time the auditorium's packed, she has 10 numbers in her clutch all of them recieved from juniors. So maybe being dropped into this Spirit Week thing wouldn't be so bad. Once (ugh!) school spirit took its place in the background once more where it belonged, she could take over the school. And Sandi's distraction with the planning would allow her to take the measure of her; allow her to see where the weakness with her friendship with Stacy was and what her weakness was in this school.

And when Sandi playfully pushes Dave a seat down so she can sit next to her and link arms with her with Stacy behind them, she thinks she might not have to do anything at all. Life was good. She had a stable of potential dates that all have cars, the girl who would seem to be her biggest competition is some kind of social chair square, and best of all no Daria. When Ms. Li comes on stage to lukewarm applause, Quinn's feeling so generous she's going to actually listen to what a teacher has to say for once. Why not make their day?

"Students, faculty, respected alumni. Welcome to LAWWNNDALLE HIGH'SSSSSSSSSSS SPIRRIIIITTT WEEEEK!" The gymnasium goes nuts and Quinn pretends to when she sees the curious glancing her lukewarm applause gets. She sighs internally. Great! Another sports crazy town; she should've guessed. "But I must admit that I, as shocking as it is to believe, am not the mastermind behind what looks like is going to be one of the GREATEST weeks in Lawndale Lions history. I'd like you to give a round of applause to the fine young lady responsible for contacting all of our alumni that are here with us today, Ms. Jooodiiie LANNNDOOON!"

An African American girl takes a stand and Quinn immediately starts clapping harder because, you know, she supports minorities. After the applause dies down, Ms. Li continues to speak. "Thank you. Ms. Landon has been imminent to the success of many clubs here at Lawndale High but until she coordinated her efforts with the next two ladies I'm about to introduce, I daresay she's never been more effective." Quinn notices that the painted on smile Jodie was sporting became more fixed even as she clutched at the Captain who sat front and center near the stage far from the nosebleeds where she was (thanks to Jorge or Greg or whatever; 20th step up was killer seating really) seated. "A young lady who has shown TREMMMENNNDOUS Lions spirit in procuring those hand-knit sweaters for all you in such a short amount of time, SANNNDIIII GRIFFINNN!"

The cheers are as twice a loud especially where she's seated with Sandi right next to her. She's turning to face Sandi (because really? all this for stupid sweaters) incredulously and does so just in time for Sandi to stand and give the most sickenly perfect cursy to the crowd in general. Once the applause dies down right before Ms. Li starts speaking again, Sandi stands again bringing Stacy with her this time.

"And a round of applause for Stacy who's co-ordinating Wednesday's 50 yard line barbeque." There's silence until someone says "Go Stacy!" and the gymnasium bursts into applause. She stands, blushing but waving excitedly up and down the stands. When that round of applause dies down, Ms. Li continues once more. Honestly, Quinn would prefer being in class as tragic as that was. What's the point of listening to applause that's not meant for you? One more name and then she's out of this hellhole, ready to celebrate her triumphs as a LAWWNDALE LION or whatever.

The gym gets deadly quiet and she almost gets excited despite herself. Its obvious something big is going to happen. Ms. Li clears her throat, ignoring the growing 'Lions, Lions, Lions' chant as she talks. " And last but not least, I have a truly extraordinary young woman; a young woman who made ALLLL of this possible. In her short time she's attended Lawndale High, she's rejuvinated the Lion's athlete spirit, your spirit, and even the faculty's spirit." Quinn looks around, bemused, wanting to see the apple sucking girl that Li had to be talking about to get this kind of introduction. "It is my honor to introduce the mind behind Spirit Week, the JV pep squad captain, and your student council president." Quinn sits up and damn well NOTICES how that Jodie girl clearly frowns at this before smoothing her face blank. "DARRRRIIIAAAA-"

The gym expodes.

Not literally which she's too in shock to even want right now but it explodes in chants of "DARIA, DARIA, DARIA". The chants, led by the football team, are quickly taken up by the rest of the sports teams. And while she's sitting there hoping its all a dream, the rest of the gym takes up the chant when Daria...well, explodes onto the stage from the side that's out of view in a series of high flips that has the crowd of boys and some girls too hooting as it causes her slacks to frame her legs and thighs quite nicely. She lands on her Gucci (she can spot it from here she swears) booted feet directly next to Principal Li and when Daria's eyes scan the crowd, landing on her in her pink t-shirt surrounded in a sea of blue and yellow, she swears the smile she has on widens into the most I'm-happy-to-be-here-are-you-happy-to-be-here smile that's ever been smiled in the history of ever.

Daria's grinning, smug a**hole face is clear of dark circles, lines, and pastiness. Her formerly limp and dull hair has been transformed into a mass of bouncy, shiny whore curls that are barely restrained by the festive blue and gold ribbons in her hair. Her dove grey pantsuit (her Italian pantsuit her brain informs her, numb to all outside shouting, mass-whorshipping stimuli) is made up of clean, sharp lines that flatter even more now that she's done spinning in the air like a jacka**. There's no syrup stains, no clashing orange backpack, and there's not a single piece of polyester in the vicinity of the smiling, happy electric sociopathic girl on stage.

"It's good to be back!"

Sandi's voice is in her ear loud over the deafening cheers and whistles and if she thought Daria's smile when she saw her in the crowd was smug, Sandi's poisonous hate-filled whisper is the master of smug-fu. "Ta da!" Stacy's hand has her hair knotted in a grip from where she sits behind her and when she whispers into her ear, "You broke my heart Quinn", all Quinn can think of is she's playing Fredo but the way all three girls have all of their energy focused on her in a trifecta of hate, disappointment and revenge has her wanting to look around for a tollbooth in the vicinity.

Hello my name is Sonny Corleone and I'll be your waiter this evening.

"Daria!" Ms. Li's face is scolding enough for everyone but her to feel in enough on the joke to laugh.

Daria's face is a mask of ruefulness as she starts to speak. "Sorry Ms. Li, but you should've seen his face." The QB screams loudly "Who's face?" and the crowd laughs again all apart of a joke she's feeling like she might be the butt of. "Easy there Kevin. You might run the gridiron but I run this." The crowd laughs again, obviously not knowing enough to be terrified at the idea of Daria of all people running anything. "So when I first came here, I was bummed to leave Virginia because its where my grandma is and where I've gone to school for the past 5 years. But then I met Kevin and he told me how great the Lions were and how great Lawndale is." Daria pauses for just long enough for the crowd to start chanting her name again. "So before I started school here, I wanted to bring something to the table. The idea for alot of you alumni of a girl coming to your house hitting you up for money when she hasn't even attended a day at the school you love so much had to have seemed weird, but thanks to you ladies and gentlemen we've been able to raise enough money for all of the athletic teams to have a well-equipped season. So stand up and give our alumni a round of applause."

Most of the crowd's on their feet and she sees one girl in a tomato red men's jacket refusing to stand but she's on her feet soon, because apparently, Daria won't stop clapping until every single last person in the gym gives the Booster Club their metaforkical happy ending. She claps weakly, her hair still in a vice-grip from Stacy's hands holding her motionless in her chair. Daria's still talking because you don't just choke a chicken to death; you have to make it live in a cage shoved feather to feather with other chickens as a warm up torture first. Daria had never been a believer in stopping before she got her pound of flesh and the slightly manic looking girl onstage looks like two pounds might be underkill for her.

"Thanks for that guys. So anyway, I did all I could to help boost the Lawndale spirit because I believe in football and I believed in Kevin. But I couldn't stop the hits you guys have had to take before I got here. So as a way of saying thank you for all you've given me I'd like to lead you in welcoming back to the Lions, All-American linebacker, formerly of the Oakwood Taproots,..." Quinn can't even hear the name of the guy who gets treated like a hero when he comes onstage. Daria's speaking into the microphone but no one can possibly hear anything over the cries of 'Brady, Brady, Brady' so Quinn guesses she knows his name after all.

"Not only did I rescue young Mr. Brady from the evil clutches of destrict lines being rezoned but I also brought you a blast from the past. Ladies and gentlemen the greatest quarterback the Lawndale Lions ever had. Weighing in at 220 pounds, ready and willing to help us all kick Spirit Week into high-gear, TOMMMMYY SHERRRMMMAANNN!" And the f***er gets a standing ovation when he comes out and kisses Daria smack on the mouth (despite Ms. Li looking like she swallowed a salad fork) and right when she's hoping that Daria gets that psycho look in her eyes, Daria shrugs and plays to the crowd like 'what are you gonna do?' And its so hilarious because its not like she's messing up the lines off an Italian hand-crafted suit or anything with that big, cartoony exaggerated shrug. Its not like she's sitting here waiting for Daria to pull the trigger like a damned turkey standing in the rain, right?

But that's the question. Why is she still sitting here watching Daria whip the crowd into a frenzy? Yeah Quinn's pretty much burned her bridges at Lawndale High if Daria has her way, but there's Oakwood High. Oakwood! For a nice moment in time, Quinn dreams of a world where she leaps out of her seat and runs like the hounds of hell are after her. She knows its a longshot but if she gets to Oakwood and claws her way to the top as Head Cheerleader and showed how much she hates Lawndale High ( and she does, right at this point she really does) then maybe when the rumors of the stories she made up finally spread, it wouldn't hit so hard. And in this fantasy world, Daria is as helpless as far as the distance was from Texas to Virginia. And its a good fantasy.

But in the real world, Daria's got friends. Friends who hold her squirming body in her seat. She knows if she yanks her head from Stacy's grasp any harder, she'll rip her hair out trying to escape. And the moment she's about to go for it (because if you're bald hair grew back, but with popularity there was no guarantees) of course that's the moment Daria turns those surgically perfected and corrected steel grey eyes right onto her. And for half a minute she almost looks contemplative. There's one bright, shiny moment where she thinks Daria would let her go. Where she actually thought that Daria wouldn't do to Quinn what she had done to Daria dozens of time before: take the crowd she's controlling in the palm of her hand and drop it on her sister's hapless head.

Then she shakes her head the tiniest bit and yells "TO OUR ENEMIES WE SAY NO QUARTER!"

And then Quinn's loose, the pain in her head merely a shadow compared to the urgency that fills her. But Sandi Griffin's hands are made out of steel and she doesn't think the girl's kidding when Sandi tells her it'll be worse for her if she moves. Not only would she have to sprint out of the gym to escape the two girls but the day after that and the day after that would just be even more oppurtunity for Daria to humiliate her. Quinn relaxes in her seat after she thinks rapidly for a minute.

She knows this game. This is her game and Daria's making a rookie mistake. When she calls her out in front of these people, yeah Quinn's going down. There had never been any doubt about that, she realises. But she could use this. Because Daria's going to use the crowd to rip her down off the social ladder before she could even take her first step and Quinn's going to make it known that that was exactly what she did. She'd still be the one who lied about having a sister but Daria would be the one who used that knowledge to make her look bad, which would actually make Daria look bad if Quinn spun it just the right way. So when Daria looks at her and smiles that wide Kool-aid smile at her, Quinn gives one right back.

"Who's that girl in the pink? She's hot!"

"That's my sister, Sherman and she's 14 ya horndog."

That's when Quinn realises it might have been a good idea to at least have put on her P.E clothes. Because being a redhead with a redface in a pink shirt makes you just that bit more noticable in a sea of blue and yellow.

September 15, 1997 1:09 P.M E.S.T Lawndale High: 1st Floor Women's Restroom Lawndale, Maryland

Quinn had been crying in the bathroom for the last five minutes when the door's kicked in and it barely misses hitting her on the face as it goes to bounce off the wall. When she sees its Daria with Stacy and Sandi, she can't even muster up the fury she should feel because there Daria stood in the center of her own fashion trio. All three brunette girls look spectacular framed together and its with Daria at the center that Quinn realises the two very different color spectrums the girls wore were meant to compliment Daria's grey suit and not each other. Oh well.

Just another way to feel like a fool.

Daria's face is still firm with the stern, disappointed lines that helped drive her out of the gym to a chorus of almost unanimous boos. "Will you ladies excuse me? I need to speak with my sister for a minute."

Stacy's face is bland, no longer the cheerful girl who had called her cool this morning. "Haven't you heard, Daria? Quinn Morgendorffer doesn't have a sister." Quinn flinches, which causes Sandi's smirk to widen even as Stacy turns to Daria and looks at her with pleading eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you about her. It's just..."

Daria's hand has gone up, interrupting what Stacy had been about to say. "No need to apologise Stacy. You wouldn't be the person you are if you didn't try to find the best in people." And Stacy's crying and hugging Daria, her face shoved into the lapel of her jacket. Daria pats Stacy gingerly on the back and exchanges half fond, half mocking eye rolls with Sandi. "Just remember that some people don't have a 'best' okay. Go clean yourself up and do me a favor will you? Go and let Jodie know that the materials for tomorrow's bonfire will be ready for pick-up. Tell her I have people to help her if she needs it."

Stacy nods cheerfully. "Okay! Where do you want to meet?"

Daria frowns as she thinks. "We have to got talk budgeting for Spirit Week with Ms Li and since you're doing the barbeque, we should meet back here and touch up our makeup before we go see Ms. Li. I should be done with her by then." Stacy leaves after another apologetic hug for Daria and a sneer Quinn's way. Sandi follows after her when Daria sends her a nod.

As soon as Sandi leaves, Daria's dissappointed mask breaks like glass. Her smile isn't as big as it had been on the stage but its so quietly pleased that it makes Quinn want to slap the taste out of her mouth. But she's not stuipid enough to think she could take Daria physically so she waits for it and braces herself. But she can't brace herself enough so Daria's words to her hit like a sledgehammer.

"I know best how stupid you are Quinn, but even I can't believe how easy it all was." Quinn backs away from Daria as she starts to dig in the cream colored courdoruoy backpack. Each item thrown at her feet is like a stab of pain. "I mean with just a crappy outfit, some makeup, and a couple of slob actions I actually got you to believe not only that mom and dad had sent me to Felding Prep, but that all this..."Daria makes a sweeping motion to her hair, her clothes, her shined boots before snorting. "could actually look less than 110% before I walk out our front door. The plan was to see if you do that thing where you tell everyone that I'm your cousin and when I come to school from doing what I need to do in Oakwood, I take a look around and see what I have to work with."

Daria's arms are outstretched as if she's trying to embrace the whole world. "I mean, come on. What were the odds that after five years of you never having seen me, never knowing the person I've turned into you'd still take the chance to turn me into your cousin, your au pair, etc. I make you think we're not going to the same school, I obviously have nothing to say to you unless you say something to me first, I didn't even kick your a** for going into my room like I should've. But I took the chance and called you my sister because I saw you out there and I wanted to know." She's silent and this is Quinn's cue to say...

"Know what?"

Daria's smile is bitter and rueful now. "I wanted to know if its true that some things always stay the same and I got my answer. You're still the whiny, annoying, entitled little monster you've always been. But let me tell you something for your information Quinn." Daria leans into her face from where she's towering over her. "I have changed. So guess what? There's not gonna be any snarky comments traded back and forth, there's no kiss and make up, there's no redemption for either of us. In exchange for keeping my parents from me, you get to enjoy the next four years as an outcast and I'm gonna do all I can to make damn sure of it." The smile that spreads onto her face is mocking. "Maybe you can use your alone time to learn how to match plaid with stripes or something freaky like that?"

The words she spoke to Daria years ago had never been forgotten and apparently that's the case for Daria too. Daria's turned to the mirror to start cleaning her face with a babywipe. Quinn watches as Daria applies mascara, eyeshadow, and lip-liner quickly and expertly. After examining her face, she smooths on a little liquid concealer in choice places and then she's done. Her face is impersonal and flawless when she regards Quinn once more.

"I'll never forgive you for pretending to be afraid of flying and I will never forget it. Overall Quinn, I say you're going to enjoy your time here about as much as I did mine at Buxton. And if after all this time you still don't want a sister? I think it should make you happy to find out you no longer have one. Erin means more to me than you ever could and that's what makes this all so very, very sweet. Everything you tried to take away from me, everything you denied me? I got it all back tenfold. And then I took some of your stuff just for funsies."

Quinn's whole body feels tight and dried out from how much she's been crying but it doesn't stop her from starting up again once she gets the meaning of Daria's words. She's glad that Quinn doesn't want her as a sister because Daria's replaced her anyway. Most likely deliberately. She runs her shaking hands down her jeans and tries to get in one final hit.

"You're a monster too. The whole time you stood there looking so bewildered and hurt while they tore me down. And when that Tommy Sherman clown started the booing you were enjoying it. You're just as bad as me."

Daria laughs, unhurt. "What can I say Quinn? I am a monster. Only when someone triggers it, but I guess that's just a distinction. But since in a school full of back-stabbing, gossiping, petty, monsters I'm the one on top, and you're not? Some things just don't get any better." Daria opens her mouth to speak again but Sandi and Stacy come in, faces already freshly done. "Ready already? Good; I'm almost done. No. You know what? I am done." She turns on her heel and Quinn know she's been dismissed. "Try to enjoy Spirit Week if you can."

Daria's face is cool and triumphant when she barely looks over her shoulder at her, the face of the politician, the face of the reigning Queen of Lawndale High, the face of the winner firmly in place. "Oh and Quinn? Don't you ever talk to me like you've lost your mind again." And then she's leaving with Sandi and Stacy at her shoulders, all three unconcerned with her continued existence.

When Andrea goes onto the bathroom and inadvertently lets Quinn know that Daria didn't just give her enough rope to hang herself but had actually bought out a rope factory with the knowledge that she'd be buying that particular brand of rope, Quinn will vow revenge. And maybe she'll get it and maybe she won't but if Sandi and Stacy hadn't of interrupted Daria, Quinn could've known that Daria's plan wasn't done yet. While she was going by what she could see and feel in the now, Daria was looking into the future.

When Quinn finally takes her psycological exam next week, she'll be shuffled into self-esteem classes with no hesitaion. Margaret Manson, who can't believe that anyone would deny their relation to such a sweet and thoughtful girl like Daria, wouldn't even pay attention to the redhead's cries of protest for a single second.

In two weeks, unable to take the isolation, she'll beg her parents at dinner to consider letting her bus to Oakwood. Her father, filled with exaggerated tales supplied by Kevin who could talk down Oakwood all day and night especially when egged on, will go into one of his increasingly rarer rants about 'kids these days'. Her mother when asked about Felding will tell her to ask Daria to ask her grandmother to pay for the exspensive school since she...and it'll be downhill from there.

In three weeks, she'd get caught smoking clove cigarettes with the only people that would hangout with her. And while its true they offered and she did not have to partake, the sly exchange of money and filmroll between Daria and Charles Rhuttheimer the III won't help the situation one bit either. As the only condition of not being expelled (as generously mediated between Ms. Li and Helen Morgendorffer), Quinn would have to see a therapist once a week to help with her lying and newly developed anti-social tendencies.

Within a month she'll be seen going into Quiet Ivy and it'll be all over school that she really is a psycho.

"I'm playing chess and you're playing checkers Quinn."

Some things just don't get any better.

Translation of Quinn speak:

Minestrone=Mussolini telekensis=teleportation mercury=mercenary metaforkical=metaphorical

AN2: For all of you've that read this story, regardless of if you've reviewed or not, this is me thanking you for your patience. Also for the revewer that asked what the Daria of this story looks like...when she's not suited and booted her hair kinda resembles a Farrah Fawcett style hair-do minus the flippiness. Other than that: no glasses, shoulder length hair, dressed to the nines even in casual wear.


End file.
